Riddles and Inquiries
by Wood.White
Summary: Tom Riddle wasn't the only "different" one at Wool's Orphanage. He wasn't the only one who could do the things he could. He wasn't the only one who could speak with snakes. He wasn't the only one who got sent to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he turned eleven. He wasn't the only one. The other one was none other than Harry Potter. (Fem!Harry AU)
1. Chapter 1: The Orphanage

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem Harry Potter AU, Tom Riddle AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The Orphanage**

* * *

Wool's Orphanage was never quite renowned for its high quality or the way the staff tended to treat the children in their care, but they were by no means cruel or poor. The orphanage was a place where children, who were unfortunate enough to have been abandoned by their parents or discarded by people who considered their presences to be less than a nuisance, stayed until they were either adopted or old enough to enter the real world on their own.

But the world which they knew was no place for a child to grow up in, especially not someone like Harriet Potter.

Harriet, or Harry as many of the other children and staff alike preferred to address her by, was what most people referred to as an unwanted child. Having been abandoned by her parents at the doorsteps at the orphanage with hardly anything to her identity but a blanket which said her name and date of birth, the staff couldn't put much together anything in order to figure out where she came from. As she grew older, her appearance didn't resemble anyone they knew from the area either. She did have the oddest birthmark, however, on her forehead that was shaped almost like a lighting, but they easily debunked that it couldn't be hereditary.

All they could do thus far was look after her, even though her attendance wasn't as cooperative as they would have preferred it as she grew older.

Her habit of constantly getting into fights with the other children and in problems wherever she went didn't sit well with the staff, primarily Mrs Cole, and it didn't help the strange things always seemed to happen around the girl. At one point, all of the lightbulbs in the common room ended up going out all at once without explanation, only to be turned on again as soon as Billy Stubs left the room after having picked on her due to her scar. The electrician, Mr Hughes, couldn't find any explanation for the sudden blackout other than it might have been something wrong with the system. Though it was quite odd, nobody ever mentioned it again, least of all the Potter girl.

Harry's tendency to snap back unpleasant remarks at her caretakers as well as her fellow orphans caused a bit of commotion around in the area, and it didn't take long before the orphanage found itself being surrounded by rumours that alleged that they housed but vile delinquents and other wayward youths inside their walls. Though the Potter girl's behaviour was scrutinized to the highest degree, the staff couldn't really do much to change her unruliness, and the girl didn't indicate any interest in changing either. Though she became less rowdy and a bit more compliant as she grew older, there still lingered some traits of that boisterousness inside her that never ceased to vanish. The chances of the young girl ever maturing into what was considered an ideal miss were low and practically non-existent.

All Mrs Cole could hope for was that she would eventually be able to find someone who could handle the girl's unpredictable behaviour accordingly. If not, then they would have some hard years to look forward to until the girl could make it on her own, if she ever could.

* * *

"You know, I still can't understand your fascination with books," Harry Potter, now ten years old, glanced over the shoulder of the eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, looking down at the book he had on top his knees. "Why do you like them so much? They're so boring."

"If you cared to open one yourself, you might figure out that there are much more interesting things in books than getting into fights all the time," the dark-haired boy said apathetically, not looking up from the pages. The Potter girl pouted and laid down next to him under the tree they were at, placing both arms under her head. She looked up and tried not to get blinded by the sun, but the tree branches above her fortunately prevented most of the light from making it through to her.

"It builds character," she said, smirking.

"I can tell," Tom raised an eyebrow at her, or more specifically, the dirt on her clothes and part of her face. "Did you get into another fight with Billy again?"

Harry shrugged with closed eyes and didn't speak a word, allowing the warmth of the summer weather to captivate her completely without any thoughts on what the morning might bring. Mrs Cole would undoubtedly lecture her once again about initiating fights once she discovered whatever state the ludicrous condition the Potter girl had rendered him to.

Tom let out an exasperated sigh but didn't bother to make a comment. Not that it would help her either way. The Potter girl was as gone as could be, but it seemed like she was the only one in the entire orphanage he could tolerate to some degree. Despite her ridiculous behaviour and occasional childishness, she seemed to be the only one except himself who could do things the other children couldn't do. Perhaps it was the only reason why he even bothered to converse with her, but it felt like a good enough reason compared to all the other ones, which there were few of.

"What are you reading, anyway?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"You wouldn't be able to understand the title, much less the rest of it." He answered, still not looking up from the book.

"Try me," she said determined, finally sitting up to face him.

Unimpressed, Tom sighed and shut the book, holding it up to her face as to display the title just a few inches away from her eyes. _Macbeth,_ the title read. It was a thick book, one that the Potter girl wouldn't as much as look at even if she was offered a thousand pound in compensation.

Harry scrunched her eyes together and inspected it sharply. It didn't help that she was farsighted and had just recently cracked her glasses after yet another conflict with someone, but even Tom thought she seemed idiotic looking like that. He pulled the book back and opened it, resuming with the pages he had started reading prior to the Potter girl's interference.

"What's it about?" Harry asked, laying down again on her back in the exact same position as before.

"It's about someone who hears a prophecy about himself," Tom explained shortly.

"What else?"

"He wishes to ensure that it is fulfilled."

" _Boring_!"

"Figures."

"So, it's just about some person who hears something about his future self and wants it to become true? What fun is that?"

"It's not supposed to be 'fun'." Tom said matter-of-factly.

"That's basically you in a nutshell,"

He said nothing and continued reading, attempting his best at avoiding the Potter girl without being interrupted. Fortunately for him, Harry remained silent and continued resting beneath the tree, enjoying the summer heat as usual. It was uncommon that good weather ever struck Wool's, but it seemed like whatever God reigned in the heavens finally decided to grace the miserable place with His presence. Tom was never one who particularly believed in the divine, nor in immortality, but a child was allowed to wish, was it not?

" _I'm so bored,"_ Harry finally said after minutes of silence. and though it might have sounded like English to him, he knew better to assume as such. It was a language only he understood, he and the others who spoke the same language, in other words, Harry herself. Looking to the side, he witnessed a common adder slithering out of the shadow of the tree trunk beside them and to the Potter girl's side, tilting its head at her curiously.

"Don't call them every time you're bored," he chided.

"But I sure as hell don't get anywhere with you."

"Language."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes yet again, finding her childishness less than amusing to his taste. The Potter girl then began to converse with the serpent in a tongue only they could understand. Like said, Tom understood each and every word she spoke like it was English, but he knew that it was only Harry, him, and the serpents who could comprehend it. He had to admit that he found it rather disappointing to figure out that his abilities were akin with hers, but it made up for half of the stupidity he knew she was in the possession of.

" _You're very pretty,"_ Harry said to the adder, rolling onto her stomach and looking at it with her hands on top of her hands.

" _Thank you, two-legger,"_ said the serpent, a male. _"Though it is uncommon to hear someone like yourself understand those like us."_

" _All the more fun,"_

Later that day when all the children headed to the dining hall for supper, Harry plopped down next to Tom, who still had the book open in front of him, didn't as much as acknowledge her. He didn't need to.

Bowls of porridge were distributed down the row of the table and soon enough, every child within the room sat there with a bowl of their own. Mrs Cole appeared at the front and gestured them all to fall to silence, which took her little more than a few minutes to do, given how erratic they seemed as of recently. One might have imagined that there was a zoo residing inside or the orphanage rather than a bunch of children.

"Children," Mrs Cole called as soon as silence filled the room. "It's time to say our prayers."

As soon as she said this, all of the children folded their hands together and bowed their heads down. At least, all the children except for Tom and Harry, the former who was still reading intently the book in his hands and the latter who had already begun to dig into her meal without consideration towards any religious acts. They earned themselves quite the number of stares from the other children, as well as few members of their staff, but none said anything. Rather, none dared to.

Mrs Cole decided to ignore this as she folded her own hands together and bowed her head down. As soon as she began, all of the children spoke the same words in unison. _"We thank you, O Lord, for all that you give. We thank you for this meal which you have bestowed upon us, the beds that you have given us to shield ourselves from the cold of the night, for the love that you wish upon us all, that we have in our hearts. Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ our Lord, Amen."_

The children all unfolded their hands and began to tuck in, but already by then, the Potter girl had finished her meal. Tom, meanwhile, was more interested in absorbing all the knowledge that he could from the book he still had his eyes glued to, his own meal untouched. Although Harry didn't share his enthusiasm towards books and the likes, she did read a few pages over his shoulder and he didn't seem to mind it as long as she kept quiet, which was more than he could say for the rest of them.

From what little she could comprehend from the advanced words which the book was primarily composed of, it didn't require a lot of deduction to understand that the main character, Macbeth, was growing increasingly paranoid and even morbid for some reason. As she had not read the beginning nor the middle, she knew very little about what had happened, but the main character's madness was evident through only a few pages.

But before either of them could read the last bits on the pages they were currently on, the book was suddenly snatched away from Tom's hold and held up in the air by a person neither of them harboured any fondness towards. Billy Stubbs stood there, tall as ever, with an arrogant leer on his face as he held the opened book up to his face. "What's this?" he asked mockingly and started to scurry through the pages, his eyes squinting for each and every page he went through. Some of his friends were standing next to him, chuckling with menacing grins on their faces as they watched their friend/boss make fun the Riddle boy and Potter girl.

"Give it back, Billy!" Harry shouted, standing up with her hands slammed down on the table. Tom didn't move a single bit, as he wasn't one for direct confrontation, but needless to say, he would've much preferred it if he could have the book back unscathed, which he guessed was more than he could say for the Stubbs boy in a little bit, judging by the murderous glare in Harry's eyes.

"' _Give it back, Billy!'"_ Billy said mockingly, imitating her voice, and held the book up again. "What are you going to do about it, _Potter_?" The freckles on his face started to resemble targets.

"I said," she reached her hand forward, not breaking the eye-contact with the Stubbs boy. "Give. It. Back."

Billy let out another cackle and proceeded to hold it up over his head. "Try to get it, then."

"Harry," Tom let out a sigh. "Leave it be. It's his problem if it gets ruined in any way."

"Yeah, listen to your freak-friend, Potter," That word had both Tom and Harry freeze where they were positioned, and despite himself, Tom could feel his fingers clenching against the table-surface out of spite. Being addressed with such a derogatory title didn't usually have any effect on him, but for some reason, this particular one had him wish to make the Stubbs boy crumble where he stood.

Sensing their disdain, Billy let out another laugh and continued to wave the book over his head. "We all know that you're freaks! Talking to snakes in the garden, isn't that witchcraft? Should we burn you at the stakes, maybe?" For each taunt that was cast upon them, both the Riddle boy and the Potter girl felt their anger increase, though Tom was much more capable of concealing this behind a mask whereas Harry hadn't quite grasped that ability yet. He doubted she ever would.

"Shut up, Billy!" Harry shouted, but he didn't.

"We all know what happened to you," he continued. " _Tom's mommy died and Potter's mommy left her on the doorstep. You must be soooo sad,"_ Billy made sad faces and wept away tears that weren't even there, but soon enough, that sadistic glee returned. "They're probably happy now, don't you think? They're probably glad to be rid of y—" But before he could finish, Harry jumped over the table and lunged at him, throwing herself at him and causing them both to land on the floor with her on top of him. Billy dropped the book and began to cry as the Potter girl started pounding on him with both of her hands clenched into fists, teeth gritted together, and the most maniacal glare anyone could ever have expected from her.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" she shouted furiously each time she landed a blow to his face. The Stubbs boy's friends tried to pry her off him but she wouldn't relent a single bit. Though Billy attempted his best to shield his face with his hands, Harry's fists managed to make it through to his face regardless of how many times he tried to protect himself. Tom watched with both disinterest and amusement as the scene unravelled itself in front of him. This was hardly the first time he had watched the Potter girl get into a fight, but it was most certainly the most interesting one yet.

"GET HER OFF! GET HER OFF!" Billy's pleas for help were in vain, as nobody dared get close to the one-sided fight whilst the Potter girl was still acting it out.

Harry suddenly hit Billy's nose, causing it to run with blood, but it still didn't prompt her to cease her attack. The lights in the room began to flicker and the chandelier hanging from the ceiling began to dangle like it was being pushed by some sort of invisible force. By the time one of the staff, a middle-aged and disliked man by the name of Mr Murphy, arrived, Billy had several bruises already forming on his arms and face.

"STOP THAT AT ONCE!" he shouted and reached over to the Potter girl, yanking her off Billy with three pulls in total. When he was finally able to get her off, she attempted to get out of his hold and towards the Stubbs boy again, but Mr Murphy was far from as weak as the other children were. He pulled her by the arm and had her separated from Billy in an instant.

"Let me go!" she shouted, still throwing her arms towards Billy, who was helped up from the floor by his friends.

"Enough!" the older man didn't let go of her like she demanded. His murky brown eyes flickered between the children. "Tell me what happened!"

"She's raving mad!" shouted one of Billy's friends, pointing an accusing finger at her. "She just attacked Billy for no reason!"

"That's not true!" Harry said. "He took Tom's book and made fun of us!"

The man looked sourly down at her. Out of all the members of the staff, he was the least fair one. Even Tom agreed on that. "You're a nasty little liar, Miss Potter," Mr Murphy said coldly. "You will be sent to your room with so supper today for starting yet another fight today, is that clear?"

Harry tried to free herself from his grip, but she was far too weak to outmatch a grown man. "Let go of me!"

"I said," The man tightened his grip around her arm, causing her face to wrench up in a painful expression. "Is that clear?"

"Let go—"

 _SMACK!_ There was a sickening sound that echoed through the air before the Potter girl succumb to silence, her face wrenched to the side with a red mark across her cheek. Her eyes were shielded by her bangs but Tom knew her well enough to know what was hidden beneath them. Harry wasn't someone who easily cried, and whenever she did, she would hide it as best as she could. He glared coldly over to Mr Murphy, who's wrinkly face threatened to form a satisfied smirk.

He let go of her arm and slightly pushed her to the side. "Now, go to your room. I'll report this to Mrs Cole."

Tom scoffed. "The fight or the fact that you just hit her?" he asked, not allowing his emotions to get the better of his voice. Mr Murphy turned to look at him but he didn't say anything, merely turned around and walked away. A few seconds later, Harry, whose green eyes were now slightly red and equal to the colour of her cheek, turned to Tom and mumbled, "I'll see you later," before she swiftly turned around and exited the dining room, disappearing into the hallway and out of sight.

As soon as she was gone, Billy, despite his injuries and the fact that his nose was now covered with a napkin that one of his friends had given him, began to laugh with them about the change of events. "Freaks," he said in-between his giggles, flickering his eyes to Tom as he said this. Instead of lashing out like the impulsive girl had done, Tom said nothing and merely stood up from his seat, grabbing the book from the floor before he too left the room.

He had something he needed to do first.

* * *

Harry sat on top of her bed with her knees pressed up to her chest, having stayed in said position for well over four hours now. The sun had set long ago and the night had claimed the sky for itself, but she was feeling far from tired. It wasn't until knocking was heard from the door that she finally mustered the will to look up. Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn't have replied, but she recognized the knocking-pattern with ease.

"Come in," she said, voice barely above a whisper, and the door opened. Tom stepped inside with a bowl of porridge in his hand, undoubtedly the supper which she had been denied earlier. Despite the fact that it was dry and didn't look as appetizing, her stomach was feeling quite drained and she didn't complain as the Riddle boy handed it to her and sat down on the chair by her desk. "Thanks," she mumbled and began to tuck in, not minding her manners in the slightest. Tom noticed and felt tempted to roll his eyes, but refrained.

"You're too impulsive sometimes, you know that?" he asked after a minute or so of hearing her eat the food like an animal starved of sustenance. "If you hadn't attacked Billy like that, none of this would've happened."

"So, what?" Harry shrugged and took another spoonful. "He was practically asking for it."

"Does that mean that you asked for getting sent to your room without supper?" Tom asked rhetorically, causing her to abruptly pause as she ate. She stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before she looked up at him, something akin to concern on her face.

"Was this your food?" she asked, to which he shrugged.

"Don't mention it," But suddenly he found the bowl reached out to him with the spoon still in it.

"Here," she said. "I've eaten half of it. You can take the rest."

Though the gesture was oddly appreciated, he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "I'd rather not risk getting contaminated with anything you're inflicted with," he said, a smirk curling up on his lips.

"Hey!" she called. "I'm not sick or anything. You won't die. You're not going to bed hungry even if I have to feed you myself!"

Tom sighed and prepared to face her. "I already told you, there's no need for—" But before he could finish, a spoonful of porridge entered his mouth and he found himself choking for a couple of seconds, coughing and feeling some of the porridge get stuck into his throat. By the time he managed to return to normal, his breath composed, he turned to the Potter girl and found her grinning mischievously at him.

"I told you," she said with a shrug.

"Highly unnecessary," Despite his annoyance with her, Tom proceeded to grab the bowl from her hands and into his own. The Potter girl continued to grin at him, much to his dismay. "You truly are a nuisance when you want to be," he muttered.

She didn't look offended, however. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"But I'm curious about something," He found himself saying, looking at the Potter girl from the corner of his eyes, fiddling with the bowl in his hands without really touching any of it. "Why did you get so irritated with Billy today? He's always like that, but for some reason, you seemed particularly exasperated with him today. Why is that?"

The Potter girl's eyes fell to the floor and she hesitated for a moment before she said, "I hear the other children talk about how my parents left me on the doorsteps as an infant, but this time, he mentioned your mother. That was the drop of it."

Tom was incapable of explaining how he felt about what he had just heard, about the Potter girl being angered on his behalf. He wasn't affected in any way whenever someone brought up his past in the orphanage, about his mother or the way she died. However, hearing that Harry, the closest thing he had to a companion at that wretched place, say that made him feel slightly…. Unnerved. "So, in other words," he began and looked directly at her, even though she didn't look at him. "You were angry because he mentioned me in his lines of insults?"

Begrudged, she nodded.

"How idiotic."

She shot up and stared incredulously at him. "What do you mean by 'how idiotic'?" she asked him angrily. "I was trying to help you!"

Unfazed with her temper, Tom merely shrugged and took a spoonful of the porridge. "You only caused problems for yourself. Continue like that and you might as well earn yourself a month in containment in here."

"I'll add that to my list, then, you prat!"

He didn't respond, but for some reason, he chuckled. "Silly girl."

Harry, despite her anger, started to laugh as well.


	2. Chapter 2: The Argument

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry Potter AU, Tom Riddle AU**

 **Just a fair warning for you, readers. The depiction of Tom in this story will differ from what he's described as in the books. In this story, he will not be an antisocial child who enjoys hurting people for no reasons but to satisfy his own amusement, for the majority of the time, nor will he take trophies. However, he will remain secluded and quite cold, much like in the books, and perhaps a little bit dark from time to time. You'll notice the other differences later on. Just a quick note. Also, I plan on mixing the plot of each HP book into this story, because, why not?**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Argument**

* * *

The next morning, Harry was abruptly woken up by the sound of screaming outside of her room further down the hallway. At first, she imagined that it was only a phantasmagorical sound her mind had produced as a result of still being half-asleep, but after a minute or so, she discovered that it was not a figment of her imagination that was taking its course. This was something from the reality she knew, and the very same reality she would remain a part of until she day she drew her last breath.

Reaching over to the nightstand next to her bed, she grabbed her glasses and put them on. Little by little, her sight returned to normal and she was fully capable of seeing everything both in and out of reach, even with the crack a little further up in the right lens that appeared after Billy threw her a solid one to the face a few days earlier. It was hardly the first pair of glasses she had ended up cracking, but at least these ones were still useable. If Mrs Cole got to hear that Harry had lost yet another pair of glasses in some fight, she would rise to the roof.

As she exited her room, her messy hair constantly threatening to fall in her face, she came to the realization that she had not been the only girl in the wing who had been awoken by the startling screaming, which, in itself, wasn't as surprising as most would have it to be. It wasn't until she stepped fully out that she discovered that the screaming further down the corridor had been reduced to vague crying and whimpering in such a short period of time.

"What's that sound?" asked one of the girls, Lily Everett, to her friend, Mary Collins.

"I don't know, but it comes from the boy's wing," Mary Collins replied. "I think it's Billy."

As soon as she heard this, Harry grew somewhat curious over what it could have been that had reduced someone like Billy to tears. Or rather, she was feeling quite enthusiastic about watching him cry herself. For as long as she had known him, ever since his alcoholic father dropped him off at Wool's several years ago, she had always taken Billy for being one pratty boy with no regard for others than himself. He would take advantage of his size and make sure that others obliged by his orders like he was the lion in the savannah. Now that he was finally the one crying, Harry couldn't help but to feel somewhat…. Satisfied.

The reasons for this, however, was something she had yet to find out. Without wasting a single moment, she began to walk towards the end of the corridor where she took a sharp turn and headed straight towards the boys' dormitories, disregarding any courtesy as she went straight towards what was considered to be a forbidden area for girls to enter. Gender separation was a prospect she viewed with both incredulity and disbelief, as she didn't really think that there ought to be any difference between boys or girls. Or maybe it just had something to do with the fact that she couldn't care either way.

The crying grew louder and louder the closer she went until she finally reached the boys' corridor, finding the majority of the boys out of their rooms. They seemed to be surrounding something she couldn't tell what was until she stepped a little closer and discovered Billy Stubbs curled up on the floor, his face concealed beneath his thick hands. On an ordinary day, she would've laughed at him like she always did whenever she saw him, but she didn't quite feel like switching roles with him on that day.

"What's going on?" she asked the closest person to her, a scrawny young boy by the name of Toby Smith, and pecked him on the shoulder. Out of all the boys, with the exception of Tom, she considered Toby to be one of the more reliable ones in the building despite the fact that he was two years younger than herself. He had always been susceptible towards bullying due to his meek size and demeanour, but he was surprisingly reasonable for his age and not half as stupid as the rest of them tended to be.

Toby turned to her and gestured to the door leading into Billy's room, which was firmly shut. "There's a snake in Billy's room," he said. "He woke up and discovered that it had eaten his bunny."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this explanation, not really believing it. "How did a snake get into his room? We're at the third floor, how did it manage to get inside?"

Toby shrugged, not capable of producing a logical explanation to this himself. "I don't know,"

Still not buying it, Harry forced herself through the crowd, ignoring all of the comments she received in the process, and proceeded to grab a hold of the handle leading into Billy's room. Before her hand even grazed the surface of the handle, however, Billy forced himself up into a sitting position and shrieked with his eyes full of tears, "DON'T OPEN IT!"

Unfazed by this warning, Harry did just that and pulled the handle down, stepping inside the room without noticing how all of the boys behind her immediately started backing away as far from the door as possible without being left incapable of witnessing whatever was about to occur in front of them.

The next thing any of them knew, the Potter girl stepped out of the room, but she was no longer alone. Wrapped around her neck in the same way as a scarf was one large common adder, one that could easily have been mistaken for another kind of snake had it not been for the fact that there wasn't a whole variety of other serpents in the UK. With its mouth decorated with white fur and an abdomen that appeared to be twice as large as it would've been under ordinary circumstances, it didn't require a lot of deduction to figure out what had been its recent choice of meal.

Without looking twice at the Potter girl's face, the boys were easily able to notice the delighted smile on her lips. She seemed to enjoy holding the revolting creature, and if anything, the adder shared that sense of mutual affection. As soon as Harry was out of the room and within their proximity, albeit distantly, nearly all of the boys began to scream at the top of the lungs whereas Billy looked ready to faint at that point.

"What is all this ruckus?!" came the stern voice belonging to Mrs Cole, who came stomping down the hallway in her nightgown and with her signature shawl around her shoulders. She didn't even make it to the edge of the crowd before she paused abruptly in her steps, face paling severely as she laid eyes on the Potter girl standing there. "H-Harry," she began meekly, not daring to take another step forward. "W-What is t-that you're holding?"

"It's a snake," said Harry as if the answer was obvious, which it, in truth, was. "It was inside Billy's room."

"She must have put it there!" shouted one of the boys, pointing at her with an accusatory finger. "She always has a thing with snakes! She must have been the one who put it inside Billy's room!"

Harry sighed and rolled her eyes, caressing the snake affectionately. "I know it must be hard for you, but don't be stupid. I wouldn't dare to walk into Billy's room ever if I was offered a thousand pounds. I value by health far too much for that sort of idiocy."

"How did it get there, then?" demanded Billy, having finally regained what little courage he had left.

"I didn't ask it," Harry said nonchalantly, looking down at the snake, and then proceeded to step a little closer towards the crowd with the snake outstretched in her hand and a smirk plastered on her face. "Maybe you should ask it. If you understand it, that is,"

"Harry!" Mrs Cole barked, shielding the orphans behind her with her arms outstretched. "That's enough!"

Harry pouted and ceased her attack. "Fine, be like that,"

"And I would very much appreciate it if you put it back where it came from,"

At this, Harry glared at the older woman. "I already told you, I didn't put him in there."

"Really?" Mrs Cole asked sceptically and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then who did?"

"I swear to our dear Lord," Harry said and crossed herself. "I don't know."

* * *

Several hours later, however,

"Oi, idiot!"

As Tom went through yet another page in yet another book, the sudden sensation of something hard crashing against his forehead forced had him instantly fall back into his seat whilst rubbing the area where he had just been assaulted. Before he could get up and demand some sort of explanation from the perpetrator, he came face to face with a very angry-looking, very _infuriated_ Harry, whose expression could've easily forced even the worst kind of people to second-think their actions before committing them. Tom, unfortunately, was far beyond that point.

"What in the world were you thinking?" she demanded, leaning closer into him with both hands on her hips and eyes sharpened to match the angle of a knife. "You know, for someone who thinks so highly of himself, you're terribly stupid when you want to be."

Without moving too much, Tom rested his head on top of his hand and raised an eyebrow at her. "Am I supposed to feel cornered or interrogated? What have I done that has warranted your anger, Harry?"

"Don't play dumb," she said. "You put that snake in Billy's room, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You are full of crap,"

"Language."

"Bite me," Harry took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself down before she did something stupid herself, and stepped back from him. "But honestly," she began, her voice having calmed down to an unrecognizable point for her. "Why did you do it? Don't lie to me by saying that you didn't, we both know you're a good liar, but you won't be able to pull that on me." The way she looked at him as she spoke made Tom feel a sense of remorse which he rarely experienced on a daily. Perhaps it was merely due to the fact that Harry was the only one whose company he valued to some degree, but eventually, he decided that the truth was the only thing she deserved to get from him.

He clapped the book in his lap together and said without looking away from her, and with a voice that sounded like it had been put in a room filled with ice for several minutes prior to this conversation. "Yes, it was me," He was not moved in the slightest by the fact that Harry seemed like she was on the verge of walking away from him. It was her decision whether or not she thought that his actions were revolting or not, but he wouldn't lie by saying that it wouldn't affect him somewhat. Being surrounded by imbeciles on a daily wasn't something he enjoyed, and as far as he could tell, Harry was the only one who did not fit into that category, not entirely, at least. Certainly, she was a fool when she wished to, but only because her boredom led her to make foolish decisions.

"Why did you do it? Was it revenge?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly at him.

Tom didn't falter but nodded. "Perhaps Billy would finally learn his lesson, or better yet, cease to behave like such a nuisance."

"He could have been injured, you know," she said sternly, but not out of any anger or disappointment. "Adder bites are venomous, especially to children,"

"But they cannot kill unless their bites are severe," Tom said dismissively, not showing the same kind of concern for someone's well-being like she did. "Not to mention, I asked it to only scare him."

"It devoured his rabbit," she finally said after a moment's pause, and at the mention of this, he raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. In all honesty, he didn't care much for animals, but he hadn't imagined that something so major would occur. Billy's rabbit was something the boy adored despite himself, as Tom had heard the Stubbs boy sing a lullaby to the rabbit on numerous occasions before bedtime. In his opinion, if anything was revolting, _that_ was.

Instead of displaying any regret, Tom merely shrugged. "It wasn't in my intentions, but I assume that some things are inevitable."

"Like death?" she asked coldly. "That's harsh even for you, Tom,"

"I didn't ask for it to get killed in the process,"

"But you don't seem to feel any guilt,"

"….. Would it make you less upset if I did?" The words left him before he could prevent them from doing so, causing something akin to a bubble of surprise to appear within of him.

She shook her head. "I don't want you to lie. Did you intend for it to happen? Did you make that snake eat that rabbit?"

"I already told you, I cannot control how an animal behaves. It's instincts. It hunts, it kills, it survives."

"So, what you're saying is that as long as you reach your goal in the end, it doesn't matter what you've done to achieve it, whether it was cruel or not?"

"Nothing is cruel as long as it's necessary," said Tom. "Would you blame a cat for catching a mouse if it was hungry? Would you have rather let it starve?"

"That's hardly the same thing," she said, glaring slightly at him. "You didn't have to let the snake loose to begin with."

"Just like you didn't have to end up fighting all the time? Don't be a hypocrite now, Harry. It's not your strongest suit."

"What would you know about that?" she scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "How would you know what's my strongest traits or not?"

It was Tom's turn to narrow his eyes. "Subtlety is not exactly something you excel at, Harry. Sometimes even I find it hard to stand you when you're acting like such a child all the time. If you're going to criticize me for doing what was necessary in order to get even with Billy, then perhaps you should look a bit at yourself before you judge anyone else." His voice was never raised as he said this, but each word he pronounced felt like daggers which penetrated Harry's chest one by one. She was no stranger when it came to Tom's treatment towards others, but even she struggled to stand him at the moment.

Tom looked at the Potter girl with a tilted head, not quite knowing what to fathom of the situation. Whether she was angry or sad, he couldn't tell due to the fact that her bangs had cast shadows over her eyes and concealed any emotion behind them along with that odd scar on her forehead. If she ended up crying then and there, something which was a rare occurrence in itself, he did not know if he could handle having to share proximity with someone with such strong emotional dependence like the Potter girl. He loathed it when people cried, primarily because he couldn't find the silence to keep reading if he happened to be close to said crying person.

He didn't hear any crying or screaming, however, like he had initially assumed would occur. No, the next thing he knew, the Potter girl walked up to him, reached over to the back of the chair he was sitting in, and ever-so-light tilted it. Successfully, her intentions were made clear as daylight. Tom fell onto his back down at the floor as the seat tipped over, knocking the air out of his lungs and the book out of his hands.

Indignantly, he got up and glared at the Potter girl, who, in return, glared down at him equally coldly.

"Fine," she said surprisingly nonchalantly, turning around to walk away. "Be like that." And with that, she exited the common room and disappeared out of sight somewhere in the hallway.

* * *

For the next couple of days after the incident with the adder inside of Billy's room, Harry didn't as much as speak to Tom, and the gesture was quite mutual on both parts. For days on end, they would make it their goal to ignore each other as much as possible. It didn't help that the other children were quick to notice, and if either Harry or Tom were ever confronted by anyone with inquires in regard to the status of their relationship, Harry would angrily bite back some sort of snarky remark whereas Tom would completely ignore the subject without any explanation as to why.

The lengths that they would go in order to ensure silence among them would be quite unpredictable. During meals, the Potter girl and the Riddle boy would sit as far away from each other as one could possibly imagine, going as far as to sit on opposite sides of the room if they had to. Harry would finish her meals like a rabid animal without manners or without care and quickly leave the dining room in less than a single moment. Meanwhile, Tom would, like usually, eat his meals quietly and with complete equanimity, as if there was nothing in the world that was amiss.

Mrs Cole had practically raised those children herself, though she was far from being the kind of mother figure that was expected of her. However, even she was quick to notice the rift that had appeared between Harry and Tom for some reason. Those children would usually stay within close range of each other, even when they didn't agree on something, but this seemed odd even for them.

The reason behind the Riddle boy and the Potter girl's incomprehensible companionship was something neither the staff nor the other children at Wool's orphanage could deduce regardless of how many times they attempted at figuring it out. Tom was a solitary child, one that had rarely cried during infancy and had hardly craved the same kind of attention as other children his age usually did. He didn't make any implications that he was lonely, nor that he was in any need of special care. He ate well, was well-mannered and mature for his age, and didn't spend his time on toys or playing with other children, but rather on books and solitary activities.

Meanwhile, the Potter girl was an unruly child, one that could not be contained or controlled in any way by either rules or authority figures. The number of times she had gotten into problems with the staff or other children equalized the number of times they had tried to get her to behave herself. Though she was by no means a bully who exploited her uncanny abilities of getting out and in of trouble unscathed, she was far from the innocent angel everybody would assume at first impression due to her age. She was loud, didn't express any care for authority or challenges, and seemed prone towards getting herself in dangerous situations, whether it intentionally or otherwise.

Now, the reasons behind their companionship remained, as always, a mystery to everybody else who had come to get used to the presence of the Riddle boy and Potter girl. They were as different as night and day, yet for some reason, they seemed to tolerate each other more than they did with any other children. Mrs Cole had lost the count of how many times she had seen them together, whether in the library or someone else in the area of the orphanage. They would either be conversing, to which Harry would express more enthusiasm and spirit than Tom, or they would simply be within close proximity of each other while tending to their own business without exchanging a single letter. Tom would do something like reading while Harry would probably be in her own world, or annoy him with her antics.

Now, however, something had changed. As seemingly a result of this rift that had appeared between them, Harry was getting into more and more trouble and fights and didn't appear to have any problem with being the one to initiate them despite how many times it had resulted in her being sent to bed without supper. Tom, meanwhile, was more seclusive now than ever before, and Mrs Cole had never imagined that it could exceed from what it had been in the past.

One Sunday afternoon, she decided to do the right thing and confront the Potter girl about what had happened. It was a cloudy day and hardly the ideal weather for playing outside, but there she found the girl, laying on top of a branch in the tree in the backyard with her hands behind her bed as if she was sleeping in the sun. Usually, children would fear such heights and avoid going up there at all costs, but Mrs Cole was far too accustomed to Harry's thrill-seeking demeanour to be surprised. Pulling her scarf tighter around her neck, the older woman walked up to the trunk of the tree and looked up at the young girl. "Harry," she called.

"Hmmm?" Harry replied grumpily with, not looking down from where she was to face the caretaker.

"Is there something that matters?" Mrs Cole asked, trying her best not to overstep her boundaries. Lord knew what would happen if she did something to anger the young girl.

"What gives you that impression?" Harry asked, sounding rather cynical.

"Well," the older woman began. "I've noticed that you seem a little down as of recently. I thought that you might want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about." The Potter girl replied hastily, even a tad sharply. "I'm perfectly content with my life, thank you very much. The sun is shining, the children are laughing, peace on earth and all that crap, et cetera, et cetera. Why on earth would I be angry for anything?"

"Harry?"

"What?"

"It's _cloudy_."

Harry didn't reply to this. Either she was too flustered to admit that she had been wrong or she simply didn't care. Either way, Mrs Cole sighed with defeat and retreated back inside, knowing fully well that trying to persuade the stubborn girl to do the same would be pointless.

* * *

Tom found himself being incapable of putting a name on what he was experiencing whenever Harry was gone. Loneliness wasn't the word, as he had no problem with being by himself, but it was something that, perhaps, wasn't so far away from it. He wouldn't go as far as to say that he was miserable without her company, but he did find it a little hard to concentrate on his books when he was alone, ironically enough. Perhaps it was something the Potter girl had done to him, an effect of having spent too much time with her, he imagined.

In all honesty, he didn't mind being on his own, but it felt as if something was missing. The sensation could be compared with a drug addict that had been deprived of their cravings for too long, though he hardly considered himself addicted to the obnoxious girl's presence. He could stand it a little longer, but for some reason…. It felt strange. As Tom continued to read Edgar Alan Poe's work quietly for himself in the common room, he attempted his best to block out any noise. The other children who were there didn't seem to notice him, which was something he preferred, but that wasn't what slightly bothered him.

Harry was nowhere in sight. In fact, he hadn't seen her since breakfast, and she had been the first one to leave the room that morning.

Why did her absence bother him so much?

"Hey, Riddle! Where's your friend?" Came the voice belonging to none other than one of Billy Stubbs' friends, who were now finding themselves leaderless due to the state of shock Billy had been left in after the incident with the adder in his room. Apparently, the newly elected leader was a scruffy boy named Henry Cooper, and though he was hardly as grand in size as his predecessor, he had enough underlings to make up for that.

Tom had experienced his fair share of bullying throughout the years, but he had never taken it personally. He didn't quite care about it as much as any other child would. Not to mention, whenever Harry was around, he never found himself susceptible to harassment, but now he that was alone, aloneness equalled vulnerability.

Instead of responding right away, Tom kept his eyes glued to the pages, only occasionally glancing up. For each time he looked around the room, he couldn't spot any of the caretakers there.

Where were the adults whenever things like these happened?

He suddenly felt the book in his hand get snatched away from his grip. "I asked," said Henry belligerently, holding the book up in the air in front of his as a sign of taunting in a similar way like Billy had earlier that week. "Where is your friend?"

Tom sighed, unfazed. "If you had eyes, you would have noticed by now that she's not here."

The comment must have hit the scruffy boy harder than intended, for in the next moment, Tom found himself on the floor with a foot pressed on top of him. "What did you say, _freak_?" asked Henry, putting more pressure down on him. Despite his efforts, Tom felt it began to hurt on top of his chest from the weight that was put upon it.

"I said," Tom said slowly. "You should be able to tell that she's not here if you had a pair of eyeballs."

"Why you little—"

Before the Cooper boy finished, in less than a moment's notice, he was on the floor with a bloody nose. His friends backed up and it took only a second before Tom acknowledged the messy black hair belonging to none other than Harry in front of him. With her back still to him, Harry walked up to Henry, grabbed him by his hair, and then proceeded to drag him all the way across the floor and throw him out the door and into the hallway, much to the shock of everyone who were present and witnessed the situation occur in front of them. Only Tom managed to keep a straight face throughout the ordeal.

Not to mention, none could quite comprehend how such a skinny girl like Harry could drag someone so easily like that across the room without breaking a sweat. And as she turned around, the expression she had on her face was enough to make all the other boys associated with Henry, as well as all the other children in the room, run out of there without a brief moment's hesitation. In less than a few seconds, there was nothing but complete silence there.

That was, until,

"You're still an idiot, you know that!" Harry glared daggers down at Tom, who had yet to get up from the floor. "I'm not going to come by every time you get yourself into trouble."

Tom couldn't help but smirk. "Yet here you are."

Harry seemed to grow flustered a bit before she replied with, "Completely coincidental."

"I'll leave it at that," He rolled his eyes as he said this and finally got up to his feet, grabbing the book which had fallen on the floor after the boys left. "Though I must say, it has only been a few days and you're already in need of my company. Unimpressive."

"Would you like me to be mad at you longer?!" she snapped.

He tilted his head to the side. "You were 'mad' at me?"

"Gah!" she threw her arms up, exasperated. "You're hopeless!"

"What does that make you, then?"

"Less hopeless than you. Honestly," Harry sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, don't go putting snakes into other people's rooms and have them devour their pets, alright? Do that, and I'll _consider_ putting up with you again and keeping those other idiots away."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"Does it work?"

"It's not very effective,"

She proceeded to snatch the book out of his hands and hit him on the head with it, which was something he never imagined would be enough to make him consider weighing his words carefully before saying them. Tom rubbed the part of his head where he had just been hit and glared slightly at Harry, who stuck her tongue out to him. "The next one won't be _to your head_ , I tell you," she said warningly.

"I will consider," said Tom slowly, holding his hand up prepared in case the Potter girl decided to become unreasonable again. "Alerting you the next time I will attempt at something similar."

Surprisingly enough, Harry's scowl turned into a smirk and she seemed content, which was something Tom hadn't expected from her. "Sounds good enough for me,"

For reasons unknown to him, Tom felt more at ease now than he had over the course of the recent days. Whether it had to do with the fact that the Potter girl, he couldn't quite tell for sure.

"By the way," As if having just thought of something, Harry held a finger up. "How did you manage to get the snake into his room unnoticed?"

Well, that wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to.


	3. Chapter 3: The Supervisor

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry AU, Tom Riddle AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: The Supervisor**

* * *

"I loathe her."

"We haven't even met the woman and you're already complaining."

"Still hate her."

"I noticed."

"Why is she even here again?"

"To supervise out behaviour and report to higher authority in case we prove ourselves to act particularly …. Like you."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you have to, for once in your life, _behave_."

"When have I not?"

Tom shot her a look and Harry returned the gesture, albeit slightly more fallaciously. The children in Wool's orphanage's ward had been lined up side to side with one another in the common room, their faces pale and slightly forced into what seemed like superficial doll-expression. About once a month, someone from the government would come to the orphanage and discuss the state of the area as well as that of the children.

Though it was easy to tell that each supervisor that was sent there could care less about what kind of state the children were in as long as they received compensation for their hard work, which was really little less than asking a few questions for each turn, the children all knew that the supervisors were not forces to be trifled with. If a child proved itself to be troublesome, unspoken things would be taken into consideration regarding its future stay at such a place as Wool's. On the contrary of what many believed, the place was far from as bad as some orphanages could be.

From Tom's perspective, it was miraculous how Harry had even managed to remain there to the present date. Each time a supervisor had arrived, odd things always tended to happen whenever they were interrogating her, such as trivial accidents like tripping in the hallway for no reason, or just being chased by some of the birds in the backyard. Granted, they couldn't have known that said incidents happened _because_ of the girl, as they were ignorant like that, but Tom didn't object against it. Though he had always passed the "tests" with flying colours because of his demeanour, he didn't particularly enjoy the visits very much himself. Those adults were too nosey for their own good, too persistent. It seemed as if they wanted to find something to pick at, whether it was inconsequential or otherwise, just to get a higher salary. It was either that, or Tom was just cynical.

As it turned out, both assumptions were correct.

The door leading into the common room opened, and the supervisor entered. This one was a noticeably short woman with dirty-blonde hair that had been tied up to a tight bun, formal yet exaggerated chose of wardrobe for a special occasion, which included a layered pencil-shaped skirt that just went beyond the length of her knees, white button front, and a blazer to accommodate. On her neck was a thick, pink bow that stuck out like a sore thumb. Her nose seemed oddly sharpened, as if it had been adjusted several times, and in her hand was a notepad. On the woman's face was a placid smile, one that could have easily been mistaken for the stretched mouth of a toad.

Both Tom and Harry silently agreed that that was what she looked like. _A toad_ , and for reasons unknown, Harry loathed her even more now than even before she had laid eyes on her, even with that smile on her lips.

Following after the short woman was Mrs Cole, who didn't seem any more enthusiastic about the visit than the children did. She stepped up next to the supervisor and attempted her best to smile, but it was obvious that she lacked the perseverance to do it. "Good morning, children," she said, and meek 'good mornings' and 'hellos' were heard from the children, though obviously not as vigorous as most would expect from a bunch of children. The supervisor proceeded to scribble down something on the notepad with a black pen, and judging by the strength she used, none of them guessed that what she had written was of any positive remark.

"Today," Mrs Cole proceeded, though slightly more nervously. "It's time for another inspection to see how the progression and development from each and every one of you are doing. This is Miss—"

" _hem, hem,"_ came an unusually sharp, unusually _light_ voice. The children looked confused at each other, even Tom and Harry shared a look of mutual bemusement, before all of their eyes were falling onto the supervisor, who was smiling more now than ever before. Despite her visible attempts at making them feel at ease with her, it seemed as if none perceived this gesture as any reassuring. The way she smiled was hardly ideal for someone who was expected to work with children. The supervisor cast a patronizing glance at Mrs Cole before she turned around to face all of the present children.

"Hello, children," she said, sounding even more condescending that she looked like. "My name is Claudia Craignell, and I am here on behalf of the child services to see for myself how such young and lively children like yourself are doing on a daily."

Tom and Harry exchanged yet another look between them, this time of annoyance. Harry's mouth was stretched into a long line that somehow matched with one of her raised eyebrows, and even Tom was finding it hard not to express his disinterest in whatever the woman was selling. The other children didn't seem too happy about it either, as none of them were smiling.

"As such," Miss Craignell continued, either purposefully ignorant or just oblivious to the children's negative impressions of her in spite of her efforts in making them think otherwise. "I will have a look around today and ask some of you a few questions. There's no need to be frightened of me, dears. I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"That's likely," Harry mumbled to herself, but apparently, the woman wasn't as dense as she appeared to be. For just a split moment, her eyes landed on Harry and ever so slightly, her smile curled down, only to instantly curl up again as if nothing had happened. Tom, however, was a witness to this. He decided then and there that whatever petty disdain Harry harboured for the woman, he too began to experience the same sensation of.

* * *

"And what's your name, dear?" Miss Craignell asked him as patronizingly as ever.

"Tom Riddle," he answered.

"And do you know where your parents are, Tom? Did you have any knowledge of them prior to coming to Wool's Orphanage?" she asked, apparently not minding the fact that the subject of parents and earlier guardians was considered taboo when speaking to a child. Though Tom didn't consider it a sensitive subject, he wasn't exactly pleased by the sort of inquiries he was receiving from the woman.

"I was born here at the orphanage," Tom said truthfully, not pausing for a single time. "My mother died shortly after naming me, and I've been here ever since. I have no knowledge of my father, nor of any other blood relatives. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stayed here." Now, in reality, that wasn't all true. If some sort of stranger had arrived and decided that Tom was something to claim, he wouldn't have left the orphanage. Unbeknownst to him at the time, Harry played a contributing role to this.

The woman wrote something down on the notepad without looking up. "I see, and how do you think this orphanage is running?"

"I would say that it's sufficient enough, at least for me," Tom stated. "We're clothed according to the seasons, our rooms are always warm, we are at the liberty to do whatever we please as long as it doesn't go against the orphanage's protocol or cause difficulties in any way, and the place is thoroughly cleaned once every week." Though he did admit to himself that there were certain aspects about the place that weren't too good, such as the likes of Mr Murphy's treatment, taking it up to someone like Miss Craignell, who seemed like she would do anything for a good name, wouldn't be for the best.

"What about the staff? How are they?"

"They make sure that we are clean and healthy."

"I see," Miss Craignell wrote something down again, seemingly a little dissatisfied because she had nothing to scrutinize, before she looked up at Tom again. "I've been informed by the staff that you are an exceptionally bright boy for your age, and that you spend the majority of your time alone in the library or with a certain Miss Harriet Potter, whom I've heard has quite the rumour for being the source of troubles around the area. Is that correct?"

At the mention of this, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes a little sharper at the woman. For whatever reason, he didn't imagine that this information was relevant to the inspection. A supervisor's work was supposed to go smoothly without the need for trivialities, and the friends of an individual surely couldn't be necessary. "I suppose that this is relevant to your inspection, Miss Craignell?"

"Of course," she said briskly, though her smile slipped ever-so-slightly. "I just have to make sure that children with potential aren't exposed to any, let's say, _negative influences_." The spoke the last words like they were physically straining her voice, and Tom could easily tell that the smile seemed more superficial and forced now than ever before.

Tom inclined his head towards her. "Would you mind elaborating a bit on the subject, Miss Craignell?" and with that, he proceeded to smile as well. A charming smile, a smile that could persuade even the toughest of adults to bend to his will. It had been a weapon he had learned to exploit over the years if he wanted answers that would prove themselves challenging to receive.

Miss Craignell took the bait almost in an instant and put the notepad down on the table. "Well, Tom," she said, as sugary as ever, and put her sausage-like fingers over his hand. It took his uttermost composure not to pull it away from her. "In my career, I have met many people like yourself, Tom. Young children who are evidently talented for their age. However, in order to preserve those special children, we need to make sure that they don't lose their potential by associating themselves with the wrong sort. I hope you understand what I mean."

"Perhaps I don't quite understand," Tom said simply, refraining from glaring at the woman's face. "What sort of 'negative influences' are you referring to, Miss Craignell?"

"Oh, you know," She leaned back into her seat and let go of his hand. He would have to remind himself later that day to wash his hand properly as soon as he was able to leave. However, given the circumstances, it seemed as though the situation he had been caught in was inescapable, if not a bit melancholic. If there were things he absolutely could not stand, it was people who made an unpleasant situation seem pleasant by acting as though they were enjoying themselves. He couldn't stand liars, or those who pretended to be men of truth. Judging by the woman's forced expression, she was of both sorts.

"I've checked through all of the children's files before talking with them, you see, and I must say, for such a charming young boy as yourself to be with someone as unruly and misbehaving like Miss Potter seems a bit…. Odd. Aren't there any other _proper_ boys or girls your age here at Wool's you could stay with instead? Of course," She held her hand up as if to stop him from making any assumptions, which he was already making. "I'm not saying that you should demolish your friendship with Miss Potter, not _entirely_ , but until she learns how to behave, perhaps it would be best to make some new friends."

So, this was the game she was playing? Tom would make sure to play it as well, but with his own rules at hand.

"I see," he said slowly, not letting his smile slip even for a moment, but there was a darker twist to it now. "You are suggesting that I find someone else to accompany until Harry has been, in other words, _trained_ suitably. Is that so?" He didn't know why, but something about how the woman spoke, the way she talked about Harry as if she was a bad influence on him was derogatory, to say the least. He could agree to an extent that Harry was far from being the ideal sort of girl, even a nuisance when she wanted to, and there were occasions where he seriously weighed his options. However, she was an interesting girl to keep around, even if it was just for his own amusement at times, or because she was the only one at Wool's who was capable of preforming the same things which he too could.

Miss Craignell, like many others, was unaware of this fact. It was better like that, but if things came to a worse point, Tom wouldn't hesitate to use them on her if he deemed them necessary to use.

"I'm just being practical, Tom. I'm sure you understand," she said. "But I hardly understand why someone as talented as yourself ought to be around such a girl as her."

"Then perhaps you don't need to understand, _Miss Craignell_ ," Tom's voice had dropped to a cold point, even if his own smile was just as confident as ever. The supervisor's smile dropped completely to a thin line at this and it almost seemed as if she had become afraid. "The relationship between Harry and I are mutually beneficial, I assure you, and while I do agree that she tend to be impulsive, she's by no means a contributing negative influence on me. But I do thank you for stating your opinions, and I bid you a good day unless there's anything else you wish to elaborate?"

Before the supervisor could speak, however, Tom got up from his seat and exited the room, shutting the door behind him without casting a second glance back at the woman. "And here I thought Harry was bothersome," she said with a sigh and left the corridor.

* * *

"Seriously, she told you that?" Harry took a big bite of the green apple in her hands, chewing the piece loudly without shutting her mouth. The two of them sat leaned up against the tree-trunk in the garden of the Orphanage. The skies were cloudy and indicated that it would rain in not too long, but the air was warm, the ground beneath them was dry, and there were times when the sun would shine through the cracks the clouds produced when they occasionally parted.

After having told Harry about his encounter with the supervisor, she had laughed a great deal about it afterwards, especially after he had told her about how he thought the woman looked more like a toad when up close rather than at a distance.

"Yes," Tom replied nonchalantly. "Though I do agree that she has a point. You do lack certain abilities."

"Like what?"

"The ability to behave yourself."

Harry scoffed and took another bite of the apple. "You don't act surprised."

"I'm not."

Before any of them could say anything else, however, the sound of " _hem, hem,_ " had them both look at each other puzzled before they glanced up and saw the supervisor standing there over them, the same placid smile on her lips as before. "Hello again, children," she said sweetly, and this time, her eyes fell onto Harry. "Miss Potter, I wish to speak with you in private, if you wouldn't mind?"

"What if I did?" Harry said casually, taking another bite and chewing it even louder than before on purpose. Tom could tell by the way Harry looked as she did this, she was taunting the woman, possibly daring her to make a remark without letting it slip that she wasn't as sugary as she pretended to be. Miss Craignell lips threatened for form a frown but, miraculously enough, it didn't falter. However, neither Tom nor Harry were oblivious to this.

"It will only take a few minutes or so."

"I'm still not interested."

"Harry," Tom intervened, thinking it was better to get it done with. She shot him a look, obviously displeased with his intervention, but nevertheless decided to get up and follow the woman, who seemed pleased with the progress. But as Harry followed after her, she swiftly turned around and shot Tom a rude gesture, mouthing something along the lines of _"You're dead."_

Tom merely sighed to himself. This ought to be interesting.

* * *

"May I have your full name, dear?" Miss Craignell asked, patronizingly as ever. Harry refrained from producing a gagging sound, but tried her best not to make it seem as if she particularly enjoyed the woman's obnoxious presence.

"You know my name already," Harry said, waving her hand lazily at the woman. "You aren't supposed to ask answers you know the question to, isn't that so? They say it's rude."

The woman said nothing but scribbled something down on the notepad, furiously. Her eyes darted from one side to the other numerous times and Harry could tell that what she was writing wasn't anything but exaggerated. If one or two simple sentences was all that was needed to judge her personality, then Harry thought she would've ended up in prison a long time ago, or better yet, the insane asylum. She recalled Mrs Cole having mentioned that a couple of times in the past. After she asked Harry about the ordinary inquiries such as the state of the orphanage and the other children, et cetera, Miss Craignell looked at Harry and continued, whereas Harry didn't bother to conceal any dislike she harboured towards the woman.

"Now, Harry, I've heard from numerous sources that you're a particularly rowdy child,"

"That's a new one." Harry rolled her eyes.

"And that you have a tendency to get into more trouble than most children here at the orphanage."

"Is that a record?" Her head perked up.

Miss Craignell wrote something down on the notepad, muttering, _"Displays – enthusiastic – approach – about – causing – problems – for – others."_

Harry frowned. "Now you're just exaggerating, lady. I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me."

"Let me ask you, Harry, are you aware of what kind of consequences your behaviour might land you with?"

"To some degree."

"The consequences may be… _Severe_."

Harry closed her eyes and shrugged, not really caring either way. Her dislike towards the woman went further beyond what she initially expected, and from someone like her, who loathed authority figures in general, that was saying something. "That's a shame," she mumbled and leaned into her hand.

The woman continued to scribble something down _. "Doesn't – seem – to – fear – consequences – of – behavioural – issues."_

Harry smirked. "I would hardly call it an issue, honestly."

"Tell me, what do you think your parents would have thought of you if they how their daughter behaved? Do you think that they would have been proud to be the parents of such a girl like yourself?"

As she heard this, Harry froze where she sat, eyes glued to the table. "You know," she said slowly, not looking up nor losing her composure. "I don't really see how this information is related to your inspection, _lady_. Aren't you supposed to supervise the well-being of the children and their environment rather than judging them and their friends?" She was able to recall fully well what Tom had told her.

The obnoxious woman suddenly stopped writing, as if having been interrupted by some invisible force. A solid silent moment passed before Miss Craignell put the board firmly down on the table, a loud sound echoing in the room from the impact, and she then proceeded to place a firm hand over Harry's shoulder. "When people address me, Miss Potter, they will either call me _Miss Craignell_ or simply _Miss_ , am I clear?" Her grip around her shoulder tightened to a painful point.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." Harry said dangerously low, glaring daggers at the woman whilst grabbing a hold of the hand that was on her shoulder, forcing it off with a little bit of effort. The woman's chubby fingers were eventually pried off her, but her smile was now turned into a vicious frown.

"I would be careful if I were you, Miss Potter," she seethed cautiously, displaying several teeth, few of which were as ideally white as most would imagine. "Considering your history and your behaviour, I'm at perfect liberty to relocate you in any way I deem fit, should you prove yourself to be a particularly difficult case."

Harry's eyes doubled in size at this. She fell back into her seat and her bangs covered her eyes, concealing them from plain view. Quietly, she said in a voice that reeked with bitterness, "You wouldn't."

Miss Craignell smiled vehemently, letting out a bright laugh. "Let's not discuss what I would and wouldn't do, dear. The government has granted me full privilege as long as I do my work efficiently, and a troubled and misbehaving child like yourself is surely of no priority to them."

Harry said nothing.

"What is it? No more witty remarks from you?" Miss Craignell purred.

Harry still said nothing.

"I'm sure that they would view it as a progress if we were allowed to take you away to a place where they're used to dealing with problematic children. With that said, are you ready to continue with our sessio–" But before she could finish, the board in her hands suddenly snapped in two, along with the sheet attached to it. Miss Craignell let out an exceedingly sharp shriek and bolted in her seat, but didn't stand up.

Harry wasn't looking as this happened, but she understood fully that the board had not been broken due to the fact that the woman's chubby, sausage-like fingers had gripped it too hard. It had happened because of _her_. Over the course of the years at Wool's Orphanage, whenever a supervisor would arrive and take notes on how the place was functioning, Harry had never met a woman quite like this. Though she hadn't grown any fonder over the other ones in the past, Harry decided that she loathed this one with a passion. In truth, she cared little about the orphanage itself, but if someone, anyone, would dare and threaten to take her away from the one person that she considered to be equal to herself, she wouldn't stand for that, even if she didn't admit it aloud or to herself.

But when she thought about it, would anyone at the orphanage notice her absence if she was indeed taken away? She was no stranger towards the comments of how troubled and unwanted she was, from the staff and the children alike, but she had never taken it personally. Now, however, thoughts began to swirl through her head due to that damned woman's influences.

Would anyone truly notice anything if she was gone? Would Tom? As much as she'd like to deny it, the thought of him easily forgetting her felt…. solemn.

For just a split second, her green eyes fell on top of the vehemently dislikeable woman, but she said nothing. Silence had conquered her voice, but not out of submission.

Nothing would ever be able to have Harry Potter bend over, not even this _thing_.

"If there's one thing I cannot stand," Her voice turned deliberately cold and as slow as anyone would expect from someone whose temper had just been warranted. "it's bureaucrats. However, liars are people I harbour particular disdain towards, especially those whose true intentions are masked by something else." Her eyes never left Miss Craignell's for even a split moment, and the supervisor's dark eyes widened as she said this. For obvious reasons, Harry was surprised over how delighted she felt upon acknowledging the fact that someone was afraid of her due to other reasons than her sheer abnormality. This woman didn't just possess dubious morals principles which involved exploiting children to her own benefits, but she was someone who pretended to be something she was not, which was, in other words, a _liar_.

Harry couldn't stand her kind.

"If you wish to write something down," she continued, easing up a bit and leaning casually against the arm of her chair. "You can tell the arseholes who employed you that Wool's Orphanage is the ideal place for a child, that they are dressed properly, the food his high quality, and nothing is amiss. Also tell them that you wish to be reassigned someplace else in the future on your own accord. In other words," She leaned forward in her seat and glared menacingly at the supervisor. " _If I ever see you around here again, you will regret it."_

At first, Miss Craignell said nothing and simply stared into space as if her attention had been captured by something else. Her eyes seemed empty and hollow like the abyss of an ocean, but soon enough, she picked up her pencil again and began to scribble down the instructed words on the torn piece of paper in front of her as if she didn't have any objection, which she didn't. Her orders had been made clear, whether she wished to follow them or otherwise. With that, Harry got up from her seat and exited the room, not looking back even once before she shut the door behind her.

For reasons unknown to her, there had been placed a heavy weight on her chest.

* * *

After the supervisor had left that day with surprisingly positive remarks about the place and children, they were all feeling the same kind of relief, the orphans and the staff alike. It seemed as though Miss Craignell had left in a hurry shortly after having spoken with Harry, and though many others didn't take any note of this, Tom wasn't as naïve as them. He had seen the way Harry was looking as she exited the room, and he could tell that there was something wrong.

"Am I supposed to feel concerned due to your lack of appetite or are you simply _thinking_ , as unlikely as it seems?" Tom asked sardonically and proceeded to take a bite of his food, eyeing the Potter girl next to him in the corner of his eyes. Ever since Harry had returned from her meeting with the unbearable woman, he had instantly taken notice to how distant and quiet she had seemed, and coming from someone like Harry, it was as unlikely as Mrs Cole's wrinkles disappearing.

Harry played with her food, letting out an occasional sigh. "It's nothing. Don't bother asking."

Tom raised an eyebrow. Harry was rarely someone who kept quiet, and whenever she did, he grew curious. "Was it something that woman said? If so, I didn't imagine that someone like you would take it personal enough to keep quiet about. Don't tell me that you've actually taken her words into personal account? If you have, you're an imbecile."

"Well, thank you for that!" she snapped her head towards him, teeth gritted until it physically ached her jaws. Tom didn't flinch even once whereas some of the other children who were sitting close to them did, and it seemed as if the sound of Harry's voice had caused them all to render to silence. Several pairs of eyes were directed towards them and at this, Harry quickly snapped her head towards them and she growled, "What are you lot looking at?"

On cue, the other children resumed with doing whatever they were doing prior, and though some of them inevitably were still looking, few considered continuing it for long. Harry let out yet another sigh and resumed with playing absentmindedly with her food, repeatedly stabbing it with her fork. Tom narrowed his eyes at her, but not out of suspicion. "Mind telling me why you're so irritable all of the sudden, more so than usually?"

"I'm not irritable," Harry said, her voice sounding much more composed than before though with a hint of salt.

Tom rolled his eyes, though they were much more benevolent now than several moments prior. " _Has_ it anything to do with that woman?"

"…. No,"

"You're a terrible liar."

"…."

"Harry," Tom put his knife down and finally faced the Potter girl, placing his full attention onto her. She didn't face him in return, as her green eyes seemed glued onto her food without flickering to him even once or indicating that she was about to eat it. "You have never held your tongue before, even at the sharpest of remarks, so why are you behaving so docile now?"

He could spot from the corners of her mouth that she was willing to say something, but for each time the faintest ray of hope to hear her voice appeared, she would choose to close it again. At first, he believed that it would be best to leave her be, but then, after what felt like hours of silence, Harry turned to face him, her expression dull and her eyes somewhat…. melancholic. "Tom," she finally spoke, her voice barely above the volume of a whisper. "If I was to disappear, would you notice?"

That question had him freeze just as he was about to take another piece of his food. "Where is this coming from?" he asked. Harry merely shrugged.

Tom had never thought about it like that, or in other words, he had never thought about a world where he wouldn't be constantly bothered with the Potter girl's antics. For years now, he had always found himself near her, whether intentionally or not. In the beginning, he could care less about her and viewed her as nothing more than a bother, just like he viewed all the other children at the wretched orphanage. However, when he discovered that she could do the same things he could, talk to snakes, make people hurt if they hurt her really badly, control animals without prior training required, his interest in the girl perked.

As the years had gone by, he had only stayed by her side because she served as a useful substitute to a source of entertainment. In spite of her reckless demeanour and lack of reason from time to time, he had never been annoyed with her to the point where he truly desired her permanent absence. Maybe it just had to do with the fact that she was different like himself, but a place without her…. To him, it didn't seem like a possibility anymore. Whether it had something to do with his sentimentality kicking in or something else, he didn't know it at the time.

He said nothing for a moment, not knowing quite what to say at first. Then, he turned to look forward, staring into the air and delving deep into thought. "If you were to disappear," he began, still not looking at her. The words he muttered next didn't almost make the path to his vocals, but he didn't stop. "The world would be…. Unbearably tedious."

For the first time in what felt like a long one, Harry lifted her head and turned to look at him, an amalgamation of surprise and what seemed like appreciation was written over her face. Tom appeared not to notice and proceeded to take another bite of his food, closing his eyes as he chewed.

"Well, in that case," Harry lifted her fork again and decided to take a bite of her own food herself. "If you were to disappear, the rest of the world wouldn't be much fun for me either."

Unbeknownst to either of them at the time, those words that were exchanged would stick with them for longer than any of them anticipated.

* * *

 **I don't suppose I need to explain the inspiration behind Claudia Craignell's character. As for her surname, it's derived from the maiden name of said character's mother, Cracknell.**


	4. Chapter 4: The Trip, Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry AU, Tom Riddle AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: The Trip, part 1**

* * *

It was nearing the end of July, and it was evident that the summer was slowly beginning to fade bit by bit. The skies would begin to darken even before late in the afternoon, raining would become more prominent than ever before, and it seemed as if not matter how many times Harry tried to venture outside, the sun would never graze her presence like it used to days prior. On that morning shortly after breakfast, however, she went outside like she always used to but headed down the street this. It wasn't uncommon for her to leave the orphanage on such short notice for no reason other than to ease her boredom during days where she was particularly prone to it, but this visit to town did have its purpose.

Not even an hour later, Harry returned from her errands in town with a package of treacle tart in her hands and few other sweets as well. She had been quick enough to enter her room and hide it away in her luggage before any of the staff could notice, but not before taking a few bites to satisfy her cravings. Afterwards, she, as well as a number of children, gathered up in the common room with their bags hanging over their shoulders and their clothes firmly attached to them. It wasn't for no reasons that they did this. During the end of summer, the staff would bring a few of the children along to the country side or the seaside for a short-lived trip whereas the others would remain at the orphanage like they ordinarily did. The trip was voluntarily and those who wished to remain did so on their own accord.

Harry, as well as a few other children, were more than pleased about leaving the orphanage. The usual trips didn't tend to be long, and only lasted a day or two at most. However, the reason why she was particularly excited for this trip was because, according to the staff that were in charge of the arrangements, even the director himself, this time they would be leaving all the way to Ireland, which was quite a bit away. From Harry's perspective, the further away they went, the better it was, First, they would have to take the train for several hours, then they would depart on a boat to a private place in Ireland called County Clare, where the director had rented several cottages for them to use whilst there. It was supposed to be a demanding trip, but it was apparently a solitary place where the children could unwind and spend a few days having fun on the seaside.

The children who were supposed to join for the trip were fewer than expected. It was just Tom, Harry, Amy Benson, Dennis Bishop, Lily Everett, and Toby Smith, Matthew Baker, and Mary Collins who had decided to join in on the trip this time. They were all clothed accordingly to what the weather showed outside, and already had their luggage packed safely with them by their sides.

Mrs Cole entered the common room with her luggage in her hands and her signature scarf wrapped firmly around her neck. "Alright, children. I hope you've remembered everything that you'll need for today. The train leaves in less than an hour, so we'll make our way to the station now. If I see any of you make any problems on the trip," her eyes flickered over to Harry for a moment before proceeding, "I will not hesitate to send you back. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mrs Cole," it rang from the children. Though Harry was compliant about the conditions that were required for her to join in on the trip, she glanced to her side and spotted Tom sending her a particularly sharp look, almost as if judging whether or not to believe this demeanour of hers. Everybody in the orphanage knew about the situations she was prone towards, but Tom made it a habit to observe them for himself.

Harry merely smiled at him, though it was far from as welcoming as most would've imagined.

* * *

"I know that asking you will be considered foolish by my standards," Tom said once they got inside the empty compartment, effectively separating them from the other children and Mrs Cole. "But how did you acquire the money to buy that?" He gestured to the package in her hands with a sharp look, already knowing fully way that she did not earn the money through hard work or something like that. As soon as they had shut the compartment and sat down on the opposite sides, Harry hadn't hesitated to pull out a pack of treacle tarts and started munching on them as if there was no tomorrow anywhere in sight. She had even offered him some, but not being a sugar tooth, he had declined the offer.

" _I bom't mow whap you'we papkin aboub,"_ said Harry with her mouth stuffed with sweets, lips spread into a wide grin as she chewed vigorously. Tom rolled his eyes at this lack of manners, though he was far from surprised.

"Let me guess," he said and leaned his face into his hand. "You stole from one of the staff, didn't you?"

Harry swallowed loudly and said, "Mr Murphy left his coat unattended in the common room earlier today. Being the considerate girl that I am, I promptly returned it to its rightful place shortly after taking my earnings from my good deed."

"Rightful place?" He raised a suspicious eyebrow. Whenever the Potter girl behaved like this, he knew that there was something amiss to be noted, more so than usual. "Exactly where was this supposedly 'rightful place', may I ask?"

Harry shrugged. "The trash bin outside the building. It's Garbage Day today, so I doubt he'll reach it in time."

"Well, in that case," was all Tom said afterwards before he resumed with watching the landscape outside the train pass them by. Even though he was a much more compliant child than the Potter girl, especially in terms of regulations and laws that prohibited unruly behaviour of which Harry was the most prone towards, exceptions could be made as long as it did not pose as consequences for him in person. Besides, Mr Murphy's belongings were no loss to anyone other than the man himself, and the sight of him running down the street whilst chasing for the lost coat after the garbage truck had departed would've truly been a sight for sore eyes.

"By the way," Harry said, chewing off more from her treacle tart. "What did the government say about the state of the orphanage? Did they approve?"

"They did," said Tom without looking away from the window. Not even a week after that old bag had entered the premises did the report reach the directors of Wool's. Apparently, Miss Craignell had given a thorough report as to how she thought had just visited the most suitable place for any child that had been unfortunate enough to find itself without guardians or caretakers. According to her, Wool's was a place of prestigious quality in terms of hygiene, staff, behaviour amongst the children placed under their care and so on. Not even once had she mentioned the fact that some children proved themselves to be exceptionally difficult, and his eyes vaguely flashed to Harry as Tom thought about this. He didn't doubt that she was, in some way, the cause of this unexpected positivity they had received.

Harry, however, didn't seem to notice his slightly off-putting demeanour as she sat there with her sweets in hand. After the supervisor's visit to the orphanage, Harry had not elaborated with him about the true extent which the meeting with Miss Craignell had went, but if it was enough to cause even someone like Harry to render to the insufferable silence he only tolerated amongst the other children, he knew that it had had to be something extraordinarily adverse. He hadn't been one to pry, but even he was feeling increasingly curious as to what it had been that had temporarily silenced Harry that day.

He glanced over her a second time and spotted her eating her second piece of tart, much to his dismay. She truly was like a child sometimes. "If you continue to consume irregular amounts of sugar on a daily, you could end up severely overweight, with diabetes, or be rendered to some other dysfunctional state."

"Are you saying that I'm fat or something?" the Potter girl said accusatory with her mouth still full of sweets, causing bits and pieces to fall to the floor as she spoke. At the mention of this, Tom's eyes went from Harry's feet to the top of her head on intervals, scrutinizing for any round shape or otherwise unnatural amount of flesh on any part of her body. He found none, which was more of a shock than anything.

Though they were rarely permitted much sweets or biscuits in the orphanage, as there was a rule which prohibited children from snacking outside of meals unless they had been allowed to do so personally by the staff, he had numerous of times seen Harry munching on said prohibited items without consideration towards authority. As such, he was surprised – or more specifically – _Shocked_ to note that there was absolutely nothing amiss with her exterior appearance. She was just as skinny and as petite as she had always been.

"Hardly," he answered after his thorough inspection of her. "Though it would not cause you any harm to cut it down a bit on the sugar intake, now would it?"

Instead of heeding his words like any reasonable person with any consideration for their health would, Harry merely stuck her tongue out to him and proceeded to take yet another bite from the treacle tart without breaking eye-contact with him. "Down with that," she said defiantly, her mouth still full. "I'm allowed to indulge myself with what little enjoyment I can get in life, aren't I?"

"There's a fine line between pleasure and addiction,"

"Really?" Harry blinked. "Please explain."

"The terms are actually different," Tom explained with no real interest, his eyes remained glued to the scenery outside the window. Rain had begun to descend from the sky, but he had never been one for complaining about the weather. Not to mention, if it rained, he wouldn't be expected to remain outside with the other children, but knowing that Harry had some sort of unique fondness towards it, something in his subconscious told him otherwise. "However, pleasure and addiction both depends on said individuals. For example, happiness or pleasure, if we were to use two individuals in love as an example (as foolishly as it sounds), is when those said individuals experiences fulfilment solely by being near each other and are content with what they have and with no need for anything else."

"I already knew that."

Tom ignored her remark and continued. "Addiction, if we continue to use the same said pair of individuals, are when said individuals cannot exist without each other, and may experience misery, discontentment, and annoyance when apart. That way, they begin to behave differently the longer they are separated. In other words," He paused for a moment, thinking about which words to use that would make sense to the Potter girl. "They are co-dependent to the other part until they are reunited again."

"So," Harry said thoughtfully and placed a thumb beneath her chin. "When they are together, they experience happiness. When they are apart, however, they are miserable, and because they are miserable without each other, they are addicted. It doesn't really make any sense."

"It does if their happiness is affected by either part's presence or absence," Tom said calmly. "If it were true happiness they experienced, then they ought not to feel any discomfort with being apart for a short period or so. If they are addicted, then they cannot achieve that independently anymore and are, like said, addicted."

"But, they sound just like the same thing!" Harry exclaimed. "It's only natural for a woman or a man to become saddened by the absence of their significant other, isn't it?"

"Like I said, there's a fine line between pleasure and addiction." Said Tom unmoved, not at all surprised by Harry's lack of subtlety when it came to what was on her mind. He had expected this sort of reaction from her, especially considering the subject of which they were conversing about. Love and all that wasn't something that had a special place in his heart, but he didn't expect anything less from someone like Harry. After all, Harry was a human being, and just as it was natural for two people to fall in love like already stated, it was just as natural for any other person to experience love even if they did not require a partner to achieve said emotion. Perhaps that was a different sort of happiness?

"But, then," said Harry, earning her Tom's full attention this time. "What if only one of those people were in love while the other person remained oblivious towards this one-sided affection? Would that be pleasure or addiction for that person who is in love?"

"Where does this come from?" asked Tom. "We were just discussing how your consumption of sweets should be regulated. All that about people in love was just an example I exploited to make you understand the concept."

"I know, but still, would it be pleasure or addiction for someone if they were in love with someone who didn't reciprocate those feelings?"

"That would be…." Tom found himself somewhat speechless, but it didn't take long before he could answer the girl's inquiry. "If a woman loved a man to the point where she would do anything to achieve his affections, regardless of what, it would be considered something outside of either pleasure or addiction, yet could still be considered an amalgamation of both."

"What's it called?" Harry asked, putting aside what little left remained of the treacle tart to listen to him.

" _Infatuation_ ," Tom answered slowly, weighing the words on top of his tongue. "In other words, obsession." It had been a while since he had last heard that word, mainly because he couldn't fathom such an emotion. For someone to be in love with someone else to the point where they would disregard anything to be with them with no regard towards the consequences was idiotic to say the least. He couldn't imagine anyone who would be that stupid to choose love over one's own life.

"Infatuation?" Harry said absentmindedly, thinking with a thumb beneath her chin and her face up. "So, if I wanted some sweets, but the sweets didn't want me, would that be infatuation?"

Tom couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's silliness and obvious naivety. "That would be breaking the laws of physics, amongst other unnatural things."

"Yeah," Harry said with a scoff. "We would know all about unnatural things, wouldn't we?"

"I suppose so."

* * *

The rest of the train trip went smoothly, though some of the other children were more prone to motion sickness than others. Lily Everett had to leave her compartment for the toilet several times during the trip due to her worsened condition as a result of this. However, Tom and Harry both remained completely in control of their bodily functions without anything unpleasant occurring meanwhile, which was more than what could be said for the rest of them.

A couple of hours later, they finally reached the bay which the boat would arrive on. The weather was far from being ideal for the summer, and it would seem that it was even worse by the sea. Harry held tightly onto her luggage for each time the wind would blow particularly strong whereas Tom didn't fret as much as she believed he ought to, given the circumstances. Still, she was only glad that he hadn't packed with him a snake just to scare the other children, though she would've happily gone along whatever scheme it involved had it not been for the conditions that had to be exceeded in order to join the trip.

There was one specific rule which applied to everyone, particularly Harry: _DON'T CAUSE PROBLEMS DURING THE TRIP._

When did she ever cause problems, she thought to herself as she mused over that rule.

When the boat that was supposed to bring them to County Clare finally arrived, the skies had noticeably darkened since they first arrived there. The trip on the boat was even worse than the train ride, and like expected, several of the children ended up vomiting over the rail not too long afterwards. Even Harry was feeling uneasy in her stomach at this, and ended up throwing up as well a couple of hours after they departed from land. Only then did she slightly regret her decision of eating treacle tart, as it all escaped from her stomach in a matter of mere moments into the ocean. Such a waste of food.

Fortunately for her, Tom didn't leave her alone out there in the rain to suffer by herself, though he did keep his distance and express his disgust at the sight of her looking so miserably.

The marks of one true companion.

By the time they finally reached County Clare, the sky was completely dark and the rain had only grown stronger over the hours. Those had been few of the most miserable hours Harry had ever experienced, and comparing it to Wool's orphanage in general, that was saying something.

When they reached the bay, all of the children departed from the ship and were instructed by Mrs Cole to follow her to a pair of taxicabs that were anticipating their arrival. The drivers were standing outside the cabs with their hands occupied by cigarettes, but the second they spotted the children and Mrs Cole approaching them, they quickly discarded the rollups to the ground and stomped on them as if to erase any traces of their existence from the world. Subtlety weren't their strongest suits, was all Tom could think as he saw them.

A half hour later, they finally reached what appeared to be the rented cottages, which were aligned with each other side by side and not as close to the rest of the village there. From an exterior perspective, the cottages were quite charming to look at. They were hardly as low in quality as Tom initially expected, especially considering how greedy the director of the orphanage could be, and actually seemed like they could keep out the cold. When the cabs dropped them off with their luggage and drove away from the place, Mrs Cole had all the children gather up around her for some ground rules. It was visible in her face that she was tired after the long trip and did not wish to delay her sleep for longer than she would wish to.

"Alright," she began sternly. "The rules that have been established by the landowner are as follows: no talking or any other activities after nine o'clock, you will all wake up at eight o'clock precisely tomorrow morning, and if I catch any of you," her eyes flickered over to Harry for a moment before she resumed. "out of bed after curfew, or cause any sort of trouble the course of the next three days that we are here, the consequences may include being sent back to Wool's before then. Do you understand?"

" _Yes, Mrs Cole,_ " it rang from the children, much to her content.

Amy Benson held her arm up. "What if we have to use the toilet?"

"Then you may leave your room, but for no other reason," Mrs Cole answered. "Now, all of you, grab your bags and follow me." She turned her back to them and walked up the front stairs which lead to the entrance door. She pulled out a pair of keys from her pockets and tried three of them to no avail before she finally found the one that matched the lock and opened up the door. Several of the children were in awe as they stepped inside the fine place, mumbling and talking to each other as they ventured inside. Even Tom had to admit what the place was in good shape. The kitchen had fine tiles and was large enough to accommodate them all, the living room wasn't so grand in comparison but still sufficient enough, and the rest of the rooms he could care less about, though none of them were beneath him.

After they had familiarized themselves with the place, Mrs Cole gestured for the children to follow her up the staircase where they reached the second floor. Several doors were aligned on each side of the corridor, followed by a bathroom on each side. "Now," said the older woman. "You will share rooms in pair. Lily and Mary, you two will take the second room on the right over there. Toby and Matthew, you will take the second one on the left across Lily's and Mary's. Tom and Dennis, the two of you will take the first one to the left next to Toby's and Matthew's, and Harry and Amy, the two of you will take the one across from theirs."

Harry suddenly reached her hand up in the air. "I have a question."

Mrs Cole seemed even more tired now than before. "What is it now, Harry?"

"Why is it mandatory for girls to share rooms with girls and boys to share room with boys? Why can't boys and girls share rooms together?"

"Because of courtesy," said Mrs Cole shortly, clearly having had enough with the young girl's inquiries at this point. "It's not suitable for people of the opposite gender to share rooms."

Amy Benson snickered in the back, along with Lily Everett and Mary Collins. "You just want to share a room with _Tommy_ , don't you?" she mocked, but the Potter girl didn't as much as bat an eye in her general direction, much less show any bashfulness. She seemed just as serious as she always did.

"That's right," Harry said honestly. "So, what?"

Tom didn't know whether to feel amused or slightly unnerved by her bluntness. He was no stranger towards it whatsoever, but there were times where it even surprised him as to what length she would go to in order to get her way or speak her mind.

"Harry," Mrs Cole sighed. "You will share your room with Amy whether you like it or not. Now go to sleep everyone." And with that, the older woman turned and entered another room before promptly shutting the door behind her, causing the sound of the slam to echo throughout the house more so than all of the children's whispering together did. Shortly afterwards, the other children entered their rooms and Harry was left standing there alone with Tom for a couple of more minutes.

She crossed her arms fiercely over her chest. "What a biased woman. Honestly, what's so bad about a boy and a girl sharing room together?"

"As much as I'm entertained by your antics," said Tom beside her. "You're quite naïve sometimes. A boy and girl sharing rooms together is considered unheard of by adults."

"Why is that?" she asked, looking curiously up at him. Despite being her, she was too gullible sometimes. Tom debated telling her the truth, but even he knew that it would be too much for her to handle. In the worst case, she would end up holding her ears and run screaming out the house like she'd just seen Death. Either that, or she would completely dismiss the idea like idiocy, which, quite frankly, he couldn't blame her for.

"Adult-stuff," he said, much to her confusion.

" _Adult stuff_? You mean like kissing?"

"Amongst other things, yes," he answered shortly.

Much to his amusement, Harry seemed completely revolted by the idea. " _Kissing and that_? Honestly, haven't they heard of companionship solely for the sake of companionship? Why does things like that have to be involved every time something involves people of the opposite gender?"

"That's how people are," Tom said simply.

"Then people are stupid," Harry said. "and thanks to that, I now have to share room what that stupid cow. However, on another matter," She looked at him and smiled mischievously. "Would you have been against the idea of us sharing rooms?"

"As long as you could keep quiet and let me rest in peace, then yes," he answered honestly, not really seeing any need in acting like any frivolous boy his age usually would. Ordinary boys' perspective compared to his own was quite different in terms of what was considered typical and otherwise. But he wasn't ordinary. However, he would be lying if he said that the prospect of sharing a room with Harry didn't put him slightly off. Knowing her, there was no doubt that she'd probably bother him to death before he could even shut his eyes and call it a day.

"Good," said Harry brightly, but then she sighed, suddenly remembering that she would have to share her room with the Benson girl instead. There had not been a few times where the two girls had ended up in quarrels due to their different natures. Whereas Benson was typically girly and afraid of everything and everyone that she considered filthy, Harry could care less about everything of the sort. She had once deliberately placed a worm in of the Benson girl's bed after the latter had dared to mention the fact that she was left there on the doorstep as an infant. Since then, they had expressed nothing but sheer loathing towards one another.

Harry and Tom bid each other good night and turned in for the night, not quite looking forward to the next day like they had anticipated.

* * *

The room was nothing grand in size. It just fit one bed on each side of the room and a pair of drawers to accompany them, as well as a pair of nightstands and a lamp on Harry's side. The window outside revealed that it was still quite dark outside but it didn't seem to be raining as vigorously anymore. Just as Harry had changed into her nightwear and put her glasses aside on the nightstand next to her bed, Amy Benson sat up in her bed across the room and starred starkly at her. "How come you're always wearing those ugly glasses of your, _freak_?" she asked.

"Well," said Harry unconcerned, not taking her words into personal account. "Just like you struggle with your hearing on a daily, I need my glasses to be able to see properly."

"I don't struggle with my hearing!" the Benson girl replied angrily, not minding the volume of her voice.

Harry let out a yawn and didn't bother to put up with the obnoxious girl more than she had to. They had never gotten along, and their friendship, or lack thereof, wouldn't magically bloom overnight. She would rather wish to pull off the petals if that metaphor was ever supposed to be taken literally. "Apparently you do, otherwise you would've listened to Mrs Cole's rule about keeping your lousy mouth shut after nine o'clock, which I'm sure we're way past by now." She then turned off the light of the lamp on the nightstand and threw her covers over her, tired enough to feel like she could fall asleep then and there without struggle.

And she would have done so, had it not been for the fact that the Benson girl didn't seem like she minded her need for rest. "You know, freak," she said. "I heard that you don't have a roommate at the orphanage because everyone despises you."

"Took you a while to discover that, did it?" Harry answered lazily, not caring for the taunts that were thrown at her. "Didn't know you had such an expanded vocabulary, Benson. Impressive, I must say, though I do believe that some silence right now would be preferable."

Though Harry didn't witness it, as Amy Benson was about to open her mouth to retort to something, no voice escaped her. Although her lips moved and she tried to utter a sound, nothing originated from her vocal chords. By then, however, Harry had already fallen asleep.

* * *

 **I imagine that Harry and Tom's relationship in the beginning would be strictly platonic and in no way romantic. As such, they could discuss anything without having to show embarrassment towards the subject unless it was personal for them. Love, romance, and everything in-between was not included into that category, nor was the difference between sexes either considered of vital importance. That's why they were able to discuss the idea of sharing room with one another without being embarrassed like most children that age would be. By the way, you've probably noticed that foreshadowing I included about infatuation and desire, and if you've read the Harry Potter books, you already know what it is that I'm referring to in terms of infatuation and unreciprocated feelings of love.**


	5. Chapter 5: The Trip, Part 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry Potter AU, Tom Riddle AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: The Trip, Part 2**

* * *

The next day proved itself not to be too poor when it came to the weather that accompanied the children of Wool's orphanage on their way to the beach by the cliffs beneath where their cottages were located, though it was far from as sunny as they would have preferred it to be. The skies were brightly decorated with clouds that allowed vague rays to sunshine to come through and the rain from yesterday had ceased its attack.

Few of the children had been pleased with the fact that they needed to wake up so early in the morning, but none of them mustered the courage to say so aloud whilst Mrs Cole stood close by. Harry, who was usually one to speak her mind, was merely too tired to come up with any complaints, not because of submission. Out of the bunch, only Tom seemed like he didn't object against the abrupt morning as he walked beside the Potter girl on the way to the beach as tidy and as sophisticated as he always did. It usually made differentiating him from the Potter girl much easier, though nearness wasn't necessary for that to happen.

Whereas the rest of the children were cornered closely around Mrs Cole doing few things but play in the sand or venture towards the open waters while looking for seashells, Harry decided to teach Tom how to skip rocks into the water. Though she was far from as grand as she wished to she was no novice either. "Do it like this. _Flick_ , and _swish_!" she said and raised the flat stone in her hand over her shoulder and then proceeded to throw it sharply onto the water. The stone bounced three times before it finally succumbed into the sea and disappeared from view. Tom could care less about skipping rocks, but he did observe the Potter girl's attempt with vague interest.

"Not bad," he admitted with a nod.

Harry felt more victorious now than ever before, and she grinned whilst pointing at herself with her thumb. "I know."

"But you looked absolutely ridiculous when you threw it," he added bluntly. "It seemed as though you were poorly intimidating a waltz."

"Very funny," Harry rolled her eyes at him and reached him another flat rock. "You try it then and then I'll judge how ridiculous you look like."

"I'd rather not."

"Why?" She smirked. "You scared to lose to a girl?"

"You're a girl?" The comment didn't go unnoticed and the Potter girl scowled at him, threatening to throw the stone his way. Tom braced himself and shielded his face with his arms as he anticipated for the assault to happen, but nothing hit him. Instead, Harry threw it into the water. It bounced five times this time before it finally sunk into the depths of the water and out of view. Her face stayed fixated on the waters minutes after throwing the stone and when she didn't move, Tom grew slightly curious. Yet before he could make a comment, Harry said something that didn't make sense at all.

"Do you think that there live mermaids in the sea?"

"Mermaids?" He narrowed his eyes. "You don't read books, and when you do, you read about irrelevant material such as stories of magic and all that nonsense. Mermaids don't exist, neither does magic."

"What would you define the things that we can do, then?" Harry asked. "Talking with snakes and make unexplainable things happen? Is there any law or rule that says it's completely ordinary?" She added the last remark with a bit of snark.

"Whatever it is, I doubt it's related to 'magic' of any kind," He shook his head. "It's just nonsense that grown-up tells children to keep them under the radar, just like the time when Miss Sheffield tried to make us do her bidding or the 'bogeyman' would come and eat us. Mermaids like that are just fairy tales that are produced to entertain people, nothing more." Harry had always been one for frivolous things like these, and that was one of the main differences between them. Though he could admit that he too was curious as to what the sources behind their unexplained … Abilities were, he doubted they were related to the likes of magic and sorcery. That was just idiotic.

"But what if it's not completely untrue," Harry said and jumped on top of one of the large boulders next to where they were standing, balancing her weight as to keep herself from falling down. The height in itself was inconsequential in terms of risk of fatal injury, but slipping from there would be uncomfortable nonetheless. Harry stretched her arms out to each side as she walked cautiously around. "What if there truly does exist things like that? Wouldn't that be cool?"

"That would be interesting, I agree," he said with a begrudged nod. "But like I said, it's pure fiction."

Harry scoffed. "I wonder what it's like to not have an imagination during childhood."

"I don't have one."

"An imagination or a childhood?"

Before Tom could say anything, the Potter girl's face suddenly lit up and she pointed at something in the distance from the top of the boulders. "Wow! Look over there!" she shouted, and as Tom glanced over to where she was pointing, even he felt himself becoming marvelled at the sight. Over by the edge of the cliff close to their position was what looked like a cave, or rather, the entrance to one. However, it was too far away and the ocean waves blocked it, kept whatever unwanted visitors who wished to inspect it away.

"What'd you think is there?" Harry asked. "In that cave?"

"Nothing, most likely," Tom replied. "Caves are naturally shaped. If humans had built it to keep something hidden, there would have been some kind of way to make it over there without being susceptible to drowning on the way."

"But maybe it was made years ago," Harry said, not looking away from the sight. "Maybe it's just been so long that the ocean has risen."

"Doubtfully," Tom contradicted. "Besides, why would they need it to be so big?"

"I don't know. To keep something large hidden inside?" The Potter girl suggested.

"Like what?"

"Maybe a dragon?" she suggested, going on about her ridiculous fairy tales again. "Maybe a large dragon sleeping on a hoard of gold?"

Tom scoffed at the suggestion. "You honestly believe that, do you?"

"Why not? Seems likely, doesn't it? A giant monster that has shut itself out from the outside world and wishes to sleep in peace without having to stay cautious all the time."

Sighing to himself, Tom looked up at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "When are you going to grow up and accept the fact that there exist no such things as dragons and mermaids?"

"When are you going to stop being so narrow-minded, Tom?" Harry asked, not losing a single ounce of vigorousness in spite of his constant contradictions. She turned around and looked down at him, arms still spread as if expecting a wide embrace and a smile on her face. "The world is a large place, after all. There are a lot of things that we have yet to see, and maybe the things we can do are somehow connected to it, don't you think?"

"I don't," Tom stated firmly, keeping his decision intact no matter what the Potter girl said. "The world has already been discovered. There are no people like us, Harry. We are special, you and I. There are only two of us in the world."

Surprisingly, Harry didn't let it get to her as he intended. "What if you're wrong?" she asked and jumped down from the top of the boulder, landing with both her feet down beside him in the sand. "What if there are other people like us out there? People that can do the same things we can? People who remind us that we're not alone in the world, after all?"

She didn't imply that she was taking his words into any kind of consideration, which only further reminded Tom of the fact that Harry wasn't so susceptible to verbal manipulation like so many other people were. He could say something and they would either agree or fail to disagree with him, but Harry was different from the rest. Her method of thinking wasn't modest or timid, nor was it weak. Despite her thoughtlessness, her determination to stay true to her own belief was something he both respected and found obnoxious.

"If that is the case," was the first thing he said after a minute of absolute silence. "Why were we left alone with _them_ ," He didn't have to define who 'they' were, because they both already knew that well enough. 'Them' was a synonymous word for 'the others' or 'those people who couldn't do the things which they could'. As far as both Tom and Harry knew, there were just the two of them and 'the others' in their world. Nobody outside the latter category had shown up yet, which somewhat backed up Tom's conclusion that they were the only ones in the world with their kind of capabilities.

He continued. "Why did my mother die? If she was like us, she wouldn't have died, would she? Maybe she could have somehow remedied her death and made it inevitable?"

Harry said nothing.

"And what about your parents? If they were like us, they wouldn't have abandoned you like they did, would they? They could have kept you, trained you, maybe even taught you how to get stronger."

"Tom," she said quietly. "I get your point. Maybe you're right about us being the only ones in the world that can do the things we can, but we shouldn't look down upon the chances of meeting someone else like that, right? Maybe we aren't alone?"

"Why?" Tom asked, looking rather fanatic. "Why should we care if we are alone, Harry? Why should we bother searching for someone else when we have each other? We don't need anyone else, right? We can manage just fine on our own."

Harry's lips suddenly curled to a grin and she leaned into his shoulder. "Are you proclaiming your undying love for me or something, Tom?"

Tom, however, raised yet another eyebrow at her, presumably returning to his old self. "Don't be ridiculous."

"We've already been past that," she said nonchalantly. "I'm a ridiculous person, but you're no innocent little princess yourself either. But that's okay," She shrugged. "I'm not judging anyone."

"It's not exactly like I'm taking your words into account on that part,"

"Admit it, though," she said. "You know you like me more than you admit."

"I can tolerate you," Tom scoffed. "There's a difference."

Harry nodded with contentment. "Not bad. I'll take what I can get." She then glanced over her shoulder back at the cave entrance in the distance, silently pondering to herself whether actually entering there would be plausible. "I wonder if we can make it there. That'd be a real adventure."

Tom's eyes fell onto the same sight. "You're not honestly considering it, are you?" However, as he looked at her once and noticed the smile on her lips, he came to the sudden realization that he had known the Potter girl for well past ten years now. It was _Harry_ , and Harry was as far from being thoughtful of consequences as one individual could get. "Of course you're considering it."

"Whatever are you talking about?" Harry sang whilst attempting to play innocent, but before the Riddle boy could come up with any remark, the sound of laughter close by had them both turn around. Standing only a few feet away from them were Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, laughing mockingly whilst pointing their fingers at them as if they were animals displayed in a zoo. Mrs Cole and the other children were too far away and would undoubtedly notice the ongoing bullying. However, Harry and Tom were both far too familiar with derogatory behaviour towards them to even bother trying to get the adults to take any actions. They had grown that independent over the years.

The Benson girl and the Bishop boy then began to chant " _Harry-Freak and Tommy-Freak sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,"_

Tom and Harry, however, were less than impressed and only shared a dubious look with one-another before Harry turned back and said, completely calmly, "You need a bit of practice there, guys. Your vocals sound like they're enduring hell."

The two other children, however, merely continued to laugh to the point where it seemed forced. Harry gestured to Tom that it would be better for them to just leave without any fuss, but the next thing that happened wasn't even called for on her part. A large gust of wind suddenly took them all by surprise, so much that the Benson girl was forced closer to the waters where she tripped, fell down, and got soaked with little effort and over a short period of seconds.

Amy let out a shriek as she got up, eyes filled with tears and salty water. Dennis quickly headed over to her side and tried to assist her up but she wouldn't let him touch her. Harry glanced over at Tom only to discover that his eyes were cold, more so than they tended to be, and they were pointed directly at the Benson girl. Without saying anything and whilst knowing fully well that this seemingly random accident was by no mean a true 'accident'.

Without saying anything, Harry turned back to the Benson girl and didn't offer much sympathy on her own accord. Instead, she crossed her arms and continued to watch with a smile as Amy continued to cry over the fact that she had just been thoroughly soaked by the water and was now dripping wet from her hideous summer dress. It took her everything not to laugh out loud and she surprisingly enough managed to do so without letting it become visible. For once, Tom was behaving more recklessly with his abilities than her, and it was something she felt immensely proud of.

" _My dress is ruined!_ " Amy wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks but quickly losing their distinctiveness amongst all of the water on her face. Dennis, obviously uncomfortable by the fact that he had unknowingly been put in charge of comforting the girl, took a step aside and didn't try to make an effort in easing her misery. The girl continued to cry. " _Completely ruined!_ "

"That's a shame," said Tom coldly, not raising his voice in the slightest. "I think you look just as uninteresting as you usually do, Amy. However, I would appreciate it if you refrained from crying so much. It's humiliating."

Harry looked at him from the side, smirking. "Don't be so mean, Tom. She can't help how she looks like, can she?"

"No, I suppose not," Tom agreed, nodding. "You can't blame a pig for not having wings."

Their comments did little to ease the Benson girl's despair, but it sure provided both of them with a little satisfaction. In truth, Harry had never been one to initiate a fight unless she was purposefully provoked and she had never been one to bully people for entertainment, but something about watching someone as unbearable as Amy Benson, a girl whom she had endured the misfortune of knowing for years now, she experienced a little bit of – what most people would have defined as – superiority. The Benson girl was hardly an angel like she pretended to be and it would be lying if Harry said that this wasn't warranted for. However, the only thing which surprised her was that this time it had been Tom who had caused this.

"What is going on here?" Mrs Cole, having heard the commotion in the distance due to Amy's exaggerated cries, the older woman soon approached the group with the other children hanging behind her like a pack of lost ducklings. The moment she saw the state which Amy had been rendered to, her eyes instantly fell onto Harry for reasons that weren't quite incomprehensible. "What happened?" She looked at Amy. "Why are you soaked, young lady? How did you fall into the water?"

The girl continued to try like it mattered. "T-Tom pushed m-m-me," she whimpered, pointing accusingly at the Riddle boy. "I-Into the-"

But before she could finish, Harry stepped forward with a glare. "That's a load of horsesh-"

" _Language_ , Harry," Tom reminded her.

Harry rolled her eyes. "What I meant to say was, that girl's lying," She pointed at Amy without breaking the eye-contact she had established with Mrs Cole. "She fell into the water. Tom wasn't even near her. There was a sudden gust of wind and then suddenly she tripped."

"T-That's not true," said the Benson girl. "Dennis saw him push me, didn't you?" She turned to the Bishop boy with red pleading eyes, and unsurprisingly enough, the boy complied.

"It's true, Miss," he verified, looking up at the older woman. "Tom pushed her into the waters, saying some kind of spell,"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Harry said sharply, clenching her hands into tight knots. "Tom. Didn't. Touch. Her." She said through gritted teeth.

"I value my physical health far too much for that," Tom said from beside her, causing the Potter girl to nod seriously.

"There you go."

* * *

Unfortunately, things didn't go as expected. Due to their supposed 'involvement' with the situation, both Tom and Harry were grounded along with the Benson girl and the Bishop boy at the cottage whereas Mrs Cole and the rest of the children would go out to eat supper. Being alone in the place was far from Harry's biggest concern but sharing the space with anyone but Tom was exasperating. It didn't help that they shared rooms with the obnoxious children, so Harry would spend the rest of her afternoon downstairs in the living room, trying to ease herself from suffering from boredom.

It wasn't very easy.

Hours would pass and there was absolutely nothing productive to make of the rest of the day and the rain that had begun outside didn't assist her either. Over the course of three hours, she moved around the room but didn't do much but to prop open a book and try to make sense of what was written. She usually hated reading but there were no other options. One of the books she found on the shelf was so boring that she could hardly grasp the story at all. The vocabulary seemed medieval to the point where she doubted even Tom could make sense of how the words were written. She ended up reading the same sentence over and over again. She ended up reading the same sentence over and over again. She ended up reading the same sentence over and over again. Until she finally grew tired of it and laid down on the couch for a nap, not realizing that the exasperating day had drained her of all energy.

Whilst the Potter girl, who was not any stranger to falling asleep at random places during random points of time, finally succumb to the unconsciousness which claimed her for its own, she remained blissfully unaware of the three individuals who stepped down the stairs from the second floor in absolute silence and made their way across the living room. The two figures in the back followed behind the one in the front like a pair of monotonous mannequins that lacked every attribute which made them human other than their anatomy and their abilities to move. Their faces were as blank as paper sheets, with no traces of life on them, yet they were still breathing, still moving.

The figure in the front seemed almost as unliving as them, but there was a hint of something sinister in his eyes. Something crimson that no one as narrow-minded as 'them' would be able to identify. However, just as he was about to reach for the door handle he stopped and turned. His eyes fell onto the unconscious Potter girl on top of the couch sleeping soundly, and he felt tempted not to let out a sigh. Quietly, he walked over to the couch, grabbed a hold of the woollen blanket that was tucked neatly on top of one of the chairs, and then proceeded to put it over the girl without waking her up. For a moment, he simply stood there, slightly curious over what she would have thought had she been witness to what he was about to do. He didn't doubt that she, being the less morally dubious of the two, wouldn't appreciate it.

Harry remained asleep, and as such, she would remain unaware of it. He would much prefer it if it stayed that where and as his eyes fell over his shoulder back at the two bothersome imbeciles, he knew that they would keep their silence intact. They wouldn't speak a word of what was about to happen, whether he was there to ensure it or otherwise. He took Harry's sudden shift in her sleep as a cue that it was time to leave, and he cast her another glance over the shoulder before he finally departed from the cottage and into the rainy afternoon with Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop following obediently behind him.

What he did to them that afternoon would forever remain a mystery to everyone, including Harry herself.

* * *

"Hey, is it just me, or have you noticed that Amy and Dennis are behaving abnormally quietly as of recently?" Harry asked as she took a bite of the treacle tart she had managed to get herself through questionable means. The field trip was cut short after Lily Everett had been unfortunate enough to get food poisoned after eating some rather funny-looking shrimps at the local seafood shop. As such, they all had to leave Bounty Clare sooner than expected, much to the dismay of everyone else.

Tom, however, didn't seem displeased with the abrupt change of events. In all honesty, Harry noticed that he was behaving abnormally abnormal, more so than what was what expected of him on a daily. He shrugged at Harry's question and said, "I doubt that there's any reason to worry. Perhaps it's for the better that they both stay quiet." He then looked out the window and said nothing. Harry stopped eating and raised her eyebrow at him.

"Not that I can blame you, but you do recall that Mrs Cole asked us all whether we were involved in their sudden mute mode, right? She looked at us especially."

"She does that all the time something strange occurs," he replied nonchalantly, not looking away. "And I can't exactly say that it's any loss we've suffered."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you do anything, Tom?"

"Whatever makes you think that?"

"You cannot lie to me,"

Tom finally turned around to look at her and put on a smile which could force any person to bend under his will. Harry recognized this smile soon enough. It was the smile he used whenever he found himself in a tough situation, and whenever he needed an easy escape. She had laughed whenever it had worked on the adults, but to see him use it to her now felt…. Derogatory.

"I'm not lying," he said. "I didn't hurt them in any way."

"Yet you've silenced them?"

"Didn't you say you did the same thing to Amy earlier?"

"That's completely different. She could talk again the next morning." Harry put the treacle tart down on the seat next to her and looked straight at him with green eyes. "What did you do to them?"

This time, Tom didn't smile. "I didn't do anything to them."

"And you promise me that?" she asked. "You promise your soul on that?"

Tom spent a second in silence before he finally relented. "I promise you, Harry, that I didn't injure them. I'll tell you the truth. Always."

Harry lingered like that for a couple of seconds, staring intently at him. She had known Tom for years now and was very well familiar with the way he behaved, or could behave. Still, she did trust him enough to know that he wouldn't lie straight to her face without letting something slip, like a smirk or a blink, yet his face was completely stoic now. Motionless. Absolutely blank. She sat back in her seat. "Alright," she said, but didn't pick up her treacle tart. "I believe in you."

After that, they exchanged few words, yet Tom experienced something he couldn't put a name on. Lying was usually something he had little to no problems against doing, but to Harry, it felt…. Somewhat nauseating to his stomach. Perhaps it was guilt? Or perhaps he was letting the fact that he could care to some degree sink into him.

* * *

 **For those of you who enjoy "A Series of Unfortunate Events", I added a few easter eggs.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Professor

**Dislclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry Potter AU, Tom Riddle AU**

 **A/N: I've made Harry quite different from what he's depicted as in the original stories. In this fanfiction, I intended on creating a female Harry that inherited more of her father's unruly, stubborn, and mischievous traits than her mother's, just like the canon Harry was stated to have had a nature which resembled more his mother. Although I do realize now that I've probably overdone it to an extent, I try to stay as close to what Harry's depicted as in the books as possible (example: love for treacle tarts, sass, quotes, etc.).**

 **I will attempt at making Harry more canon from now on and I sincerely apologize if it has been of any inconvenience to some of you who have read this and thought "this is too different". I've enjoyed your support immensely and, although I have not responded on any reviews, I DO read them and take them into account and answer the questions I receive by adding the details into the plot.**

 **Thank you again for your attention and support. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: The Professor**

* * *

If you asked the majority of the staff at the orphanage what the date 31st of July meant to them, they would have said something along the lines of "No idea," or "It's the last day of the month. So, what?" If you asked the children, they would have answered much the same as the adults, and no answer would have been distinctively different from the others. Mrs Cole might have had an idea as to why the date was considered significant to someone, but so far, not even she harboured much sense of importance towards it.

"I spy with my little eye, something that is…" Harry paused as her eyes scanned across the dull room. Her eyes fell on the wardrobe. "Brown."

"The wardrobe," Tom answered dully, looking at Harry as if she was an idiot. They had been playing that game for a few minutes now and none of them were enjoying it. "There's not a whole lot of variety to choose from here."

"I suppose you're right," she admitted, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the ceiling with a distant gaze in her eyes. She spotted a spider crawl across it and disappear into the corner. Even though it was technically her birthday, she felt no joy or significance towards the date.

Over the course of the last days, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop had barely spoken a word since the trip. It was evident that Mrs Cole suspected Harry or Tom, judging by the way she was constantly glancing nervously their way, but she had never mentioned anything in order to confirm this insinuation. As such, Harry and Tom had spent most of the days cooped up in their rooms, either together or alone, as to avoid the constant stares they were receiving. It was much more convenient this way, anyway.

Harry sighed as she watched the spider disappear, trailing her eyes over its moving-pattern. "I only realize now how monotonous this place is."

"Congratulations," Tom said, no less indifferently. "It only took you eleven years to figure it out."

She glared at him but didn't seem to object against his statement. Wool's orphanage was far from someplace where a child ought to grow up, with its grim walls and cold demeanour. It surprised Harry that she had managed to stay alive there for so many years, but then she remembered that it was far from as poor as most other orphanages in London could be. She should've actually been grateful, and she was, but for any sentimental reasons.

Mr Wool, the director himself, wasn't as generous and thoughtful as his image made him appear to be. He had been around several times in the past and made snide remarks about how filthy he thought the children were, calling them "strays" and the sorts.

Surprisingly, despite all of the trouble Harry tended to stir, the director had never mustered the courage to permanently banish Harry from there. He was probably worried about his image if it ever came out that he had deliberately left an orphan on their own. Perhaps popularity did have its use after all?

"What do you plan on doing once you get out of here, Tom?" Harry asked, eyes still glued to the ceiling. She spotted a crack there and slowly trailed her eyes after it.

"That depends," Tom said. "On what kind of options that are at my disposal then,"

Harry looked as if she was torn between exasperation or boredom at the sound of Tom's conditions. "Options? All options are available to you," she said and sat straight up in the seat across the bed, staring at him sharply as though she was supposed to reprimand him for something he had said. She didn't. "All options will surely be available to you. You're on the top of our class," she pointed out. "The teachers adore you and you always get good marks."

"That's not the point," Tom contradicted her, much to Harry's bemusement. She opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it. "I don't think that there's anything left here for me, at least not in London at least. Not here. Maybe I'll leave for someplace else when I'm old enough,"

"I get that," Harry agreed with a nod. "But how do you imagine yourself in the next ten years? Successful job? Married? Children?" She couldn't help but to smirk a bit at the last part.

"Marriage and children is not something I consider a priority," Tom answered blatantly, shaking his head. "Too complicated."

"For someone like you? No doubt," Harry turned to look out the window again. The weather seemed as nasty as always outside, dull grey clouds that hung over the skies and prevented any sun from getting through. She spotted few people walking outside on the streets either. So much for a birthday, though she didn't really mind that much if nobody acknowledged it. There was hardly anything to celebrate at Wool's at all, except the seldom holidays.

"You're unusually quiet today," Tom noted, settling his elbow on top of his knee and resting his head on top of it. "Considering it's your birthday."

She scoffed. "You know as much as me that neither of us tends to celebrate anything, much less a birthday. This day is just like any other. However, at least I have no reason to feel beneath you now that we're the same age,"

"Age isn't required for that," Tom couldn't help but grin somewhat patronizingly at her, to which Harry merely scowled. Tom was older than Harry by several months, seeing it as his birthday was at the end of the year whereas Harry's was at the end of a summer month, ironically enough. Another thing which differentiated the two of them other than their personalities.

"We're getting older," she said and resumed with watching the exterior of the building through the window. "And here I was hoping something exciting would happen."

"You're expecting too much,"

"I know, but I _am_ a child, after all," She turned to look at him, a genuine smile on her lips. "Am I not allowed to dream?"

Tom didn't say anything at first, merely observing the Potter girl's features, everything from her smile to her bright green eyes. He wondered if she had inherited them from her mother or her father, but he quickly discarded that thought. "Only if you remember to wake up and face reality like an adult,"

And with that, he resumed with reading whilst Harry continued to try and find simple things to do in order to ease her vague boredom. Neither of them were aware of the fact that something interesting was about to happen sooner than they expected.

* * *

At the same moment the Potter girl and Riddle boy had settled down, a middle-aged man stepped within Wool's perimeter, looking down at an old pocket watch in his hand. This man was far from as ordinary as he appeared to be at first glance, or more specifically, he wasn't looking ordinary at all to those few people that passed him by on the street, with long auburn hair that matched his peculiar-looking beard. The primary source of this unwanted attention, however, was the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet he was wearing.

The man, deciding that it was time, put the pocket watch back into the comfort of his pocket and passed through the iron gates which lead up to the entrance door. The building was dark-looking and didn't seem as inviting as one would've imagined an orphanage to be like. Many individuals would have viewed the place with scepticism due to its cold exterior and somewhat grim appearance. But the man didn't seem to fret for anything at all as he finally mounted the few pair of stairs and reached the entrance door, knocking only once before it opened only a few moments later.

A scruffy-looking girl with messy hair and a dirty apron opened the door for the stranger, looking quite distressed and sleep-deprived by the looks of things and the heavy bangs under her eyes. The stranger smiled and inclined his head towards her. "Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the young woman, clearly caught off-guard by the man's eccentric appearance. "Uhm, just a mo'… MRS COLE!" She turned around and shouted over her shoulder. A distant voice of approval came from inside the building and the young woman turned back to the stranger. "Come in, she's on 'er way."

The stranger expressed his gratitude before he stepped inside the building. True to its exterior, it was quite gloomy-looking inside, yet it was spotlessly clean and didn't seem like it was in any poor state whatsoever. Before the door shut completely behind them, scurrying towards them came the skinny, fatigued matron of Wool's, looking more anxious and stressed out than anything even resembling hostility. Behind her was another aproned caretaker, to whom she shouted orders to.

"… and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets – Chickenpox on top of everything else." She said, though it didn't seem like she was speaking to anyone but herself. The other aproned caretaker left after a quick nod and it was then that the matron's eyes fell on top of the stranger standing there in the hallway, smiling pleasantly at her.

"Good afternoon," he said and held his hand out to her. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs Cole blinked once, then twice, as if to conclude that she was not hallucinating the odd-looking man. "Oh, yes," she said feebly. "Well – Well then – You'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led the strange Dumbledore into her office room, which frankly looked more like a place where she composed herself after particularly stressful days. The room was as mismatched and shabby as the rest of the place, but Dumbledore didn't complain nor did he imply that he was in any discomfort. Mrs Cole gestured for him to sit down in a rickety chair across her desk, which she sat behind whilst eyeing him nervously.

Dumbledore took her silence as a sign that she was waiting for an explanation, which he would've been more than happy to indulge in. "I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and Harriet Potter and arrangements for their future," he said calmly.

"Are you related to any of them?" Mrs Cole asked. "Tom or Harry?"

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer them a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It's called Hogwarts," Dumbledore answered.

Mrs Cole nodded. "And how come you're interested in them? Both of them?"

"We believe that both Tom and Harriet have qualities we are looking for," he explained.

"What do you mean? Have they won a scholarship each or something? How could they have done that?"

"Well, their names have been down for our school since birth–"

"Who registered them?" Mrs Cole asked, as sharp as she was confused. "Their families? Why the both of them? Are they truly related in some way?"

"According to their records, they are not," Dumbledore explained mildly. "They are, however, both obligated to enter this school, given the conditions and their qualifications. I'm sure you understand." There was no doubt now that Dumbledore grasped the fact that Mrs Cole was inconveniently sharp, despite her evident anxiousness. As such, he knew that certain strings needed to be pulled.

Pulling something mysterious out of the pocket of his suit, as Mrs Cole was about to question him further, he placed a completely blank paper on top of her desk. Her eyes fell on top of it in confusion, and just then, the man waved something in the air just once. "Here," said Dumbledore and put whatever had previously occupied his hand back to where it came from. "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs Cole felt her mind become disorganized for no reason. The paper in front of her seemed like it truly made everything seem clear. "That seems perfectly in order," she said with a nod and handed the note back. As she looked at Dumbledore again, she noticed that there were now two glasses and a bottle of gin sitting in front of her. "Er – May I offer you a glass of gin?" she asked.

Dumbledore inclined his head towards her. "Thank you very much,"

It now became clear to him that Mrs Cole wasn't as timid as she initially appeared to be. After pouring the both of them a generous amount of liquor in each of the glasses, she downed hers in one simple gulp. Dumbledore, meanwhile, seemed like he was planning on something as he watched the matron smile at him for the first time since his arrival.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything regarding Tom and Harriet's history? Were they both born here at the orphanage?"

"Not Harry," Mrs Cole said, helping herself to another glass of gin. "Harry was placed here on the doorsteps almost a year after Tom was born. It was a chilly summer morning we found here on the steps alone."

"All alone?" Dumbledore asked.

Mrs Cole nodded. "There was no note with her, no guardian, no mother who explained how she couldn't afford to care for her child. There was only an infant with a blanket wrapped around her which read her name as Harriet L. Potter, along with the date we assumed to be her birthday… Oh," The matron turned around to look at a calendar that hung on the wall. "It's today. I remember."

"No relatives came here in search for her? Did you make sense of what her middle name might have stood for?" Dumbledore asked.

"No middle name to think of. Nobody ever showed up. There's no Potter around in London as far as we know, and nobody came here in search of their missing daughter." Mrs Cole said, sipping the gin with little effort. "It's different with Tom, however. I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour, and she was dead in another hour."

She poured herself another glass and downed it only a moment afterwards.

"Did she say anything before she died?" Dumbledore asked. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs Cole, who was evidently growing more and more affected by the liquor by the moment. "I remember she said to me 'I hope he looks like his papa'. I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty – and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, Marvolo, for her father, and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word.

"We named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all. Like that, they've both stayed here at the orphanage ever since." And like that, the matron didn't hesitate to pour herself yet another glass of the liquor that was nearing emptiness bit by bit. She seemed like she struggled to stand straight for a moment until she said, "They're completely different, but they are both funny, you know?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I thought they might be. What can you tell me about their interactions? Are they close friends?"

Mrs Cole let out a hiccup and supported herself to the desk as she explained, "They're always with each other, one way or the other, despite being completely different. They seemed like they got along ever since they were babes," Her cheekbones turned bright pink. "They would disappear off wherever together and do all sorts of stuff. Seeing them apart is strange. As babes, Harry was just like any other child, but Tom…. He was a funny boy. Rarely cried. It wasn't until they began to group together when they were older that Harry started to separate from everyone else just like him. We've tried to get them help, to see doctors, but they don't want to. We've debated taking them to the nearest psychiatry and see if there's anything wrong with them, but–"

"I can assure you," said Dumbledore gently. "Nothing is wrong with them."

"Oh?" said Mrs Cole, not really sounding very relieved. "That's good."

"About earlier, you mean to say that Tom was a bad influence on her?" Dumbledore inquired.

Mrs Cole shook her head. "Not a bad influence, I'd say. Harry's always been rowdy, even after she began to stick around Tom, but it would seem as though neither of them quite knew how to deal with everyone else. However, if I'm allowed to state my true opinion, it's Tom that's the oddest one of the two…" She paused, prompting Dumbledore to continue.

"Odd in what way?" he asked gently.

"Well, he…." Mrs Cole looked interrogational over at him over the brim of her glass of gin, no note of vagueness or disorganization written over her features as opposed to earlier. "You say that they definitely got a place at that school of yours?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore with a nod.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing,"

"And you'll be taking the both of them, whatever?"

"Whatever," Dumbledore answered seriously.

Mrs Cole sat back into her seat but her eyes never left those of Dumbledore. She continuously opened and shut her mouth, as if still deciding whether to trust the stranger, but evidently, she decided to do so because the next thing that happened, she said in a rather briskly tone, "He scares the other children, Tom,"

"You mean to tell me Tom is a bully? Isn't Harriet the one to initiate trouble around?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"No, Harry gets into trouble with the other children, that's true, but she's never bullied anyone. At least, not as I've seen. Tom, meanwhile, I think he must be, but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents…. Nasty things…"

Dumbledore waited patiently for her to continue, but there was no doubt that he was interested in listening further. Mrs Cole took another gulp of gin before she proceeded, looking vaguely more nervous than before. "There once came a snake into Billy Stubbs' room, and his room is on the third floor, so I don't see how it could've gotten there. Harry was the one to take it out without difficulties, and since she's always had some sort of affinity, so we just assumed…. but said she didn't do it," she said, frowning slightly. "It ate the boy's rabbit. We tried calling exterminators, but she had already released it before anything could be done."

"Did you believe her?" Dumbledore asked patiently. "When she said she didn't put it there?"

"I …. I didn't know what to think," Mrs Cole answered. "They had ended up in a fight earlier, at least, according to Mr Murphy."

"He's one of the caretakers here?"

Mrs Cole nodded. "He arrived here only a few years ago, but he's never been one to get along with children. He seems to dislike Harry in particular, calling her a 'nasty little liar' when he reported the incident to me. He even openly said he supported the theory that she had been the one to bring the snake into Billy's room, but there was never any proof. We just assumed that it had somehow gotten through the pipes, but…. I'm not sure now." She took another swing of gin before she continued. "On the summer outing, we take some of the children out, you know, once a year, to the countryside of the seaside. Well, we were there not too long ago, but Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop have never been quite right since then. They were quiet, and we could get no answer out of them. All we heard was that they had been somewhere with Tom to play, but it didn't sound like nothing. When we asked him, he said that he had done nothing but explore the area with them. He said nothing had happened, which is odd in more than one way."

"How so?"

"Earlier that day, all four of them, Tom, Harry, Amy, and Dennis, had gotten grounded because of some arguments earlier. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was just Harry that had ventured outside, but this time it was just Tom and them. He never mentioned Harry getting involved, which is highly unusual for them." She let out a hiccup, having almost downed two-thirds of the bottle already. "He said nothing happened, but something must have happened. And, well, there have been a lot of funny things going on throughout the years… Some which Harry wasn't involved in. When we asked her about the incident with Amy and Dennis, she didn't seem like she knew anything of it. Said she'd been sleeping."

When she looked at Dumbledore again, the colour on her cheeks had deepened, yet her eyes were as sharp as could be. "Honestly, I don't think many will be sorry to see the back of him. Harry, like you said, will be going with him?"

"Of course, but we won't be keeping them permanently," Dumbledore said. "They will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," Mrs Cole said with a slight hiccup and got up to her feet. It was a miracle that she managed to get on her feet steadily enough considering the amount of alcohol she had just consumed. "I suppose you'd like to see them? Without looking, I'd say that they are not far from each other."

"Very much," Dumbledore said and rose to his feet as well.

* * *

A pair of knocks. That was all it took. Just two knocks and both the Potter girl and the Riddle boy snapped their heads towards the door, wary as could be. Harry sat straight up in her seat, eyes glued to the door with such scepticism that it was practically oozing from her irises. Tom instantly put the book down and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, not any less cynical.

The door opened up and standing there was a far from sober Mrs Cole and an old gentleman with an eccentric choice of clothing. His nose seemed as though it had been broken several times before and he smiled gently towards them. Neither Tom or Harry smiled back, as they both felt threatened by the presence of this stranger. They didn't know why, but something was off about him.

"Tom, Harry, you've got a visitor," said Mrs Cole and gestured to the stranger beside her. "This is Mr Dumberton– sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you – Well, I'll let him do it." As the old man stepped into the room, Mrs Cole exited and closed the door behind her, leaving the two children completely alone with the old man.

Neither of them said anything, but their eyes never averted onto something else. Both Harry and Tom could agree that the man's clothes were far from ordinary in any way, yet the man didn't seem to take any notice of their obvious distrust of him. "How do you do, Tom, Harriet?" He stepped forward and reached it first to Tom and then to Harry respectively, but only Tom hesitated before he took it. Harry, albeit bemused, took the stranger's hand whilst exploiting less time than her companion did to finish the action.

"I am Professor Dumbledore," said the man.

"'Professor'?" Tom asked. "Is that like a 'doctor?' What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at us?"

"I don't think he's a doctor," Harry admitted, looking up and down at the stranger. "Doesn't look like one, at least."

"You would be correct," Dumbledore said gently. "I am not a doctor."

"I don't believe you," said Tom suspiciously, not utterly convinced. There were rare occasions when Harry saw him like this but she couldn't criticize him for his cynicism. Give his poor relations with doctors in the past, as well as her own unpleasant experiences, they knew not to trust grown-ups too easily. "Tell the truth." As he finished with this, Harry swore she could feel the faintest vibration in the floor wood as though Tom had shouted. However, it quickly subdued and Tom stopped glaring, instead choosing to refrain from losing his equanimity. It wouldn't look good on him, after all.

Harry turned her attention away from Tom and looked at Professor Dumbledore again, noticing every detail about his appearance. It was a peculiar choice of wardrobe, to say the least, and she had never seen something akin to this in her life. The chances of him being a doctor were low, as she doubted the typical doctors or medical experts wore purple on a daily, but she was no less suspicious than before. "Who are you?" she asked, finally meeting the old man's eyes like an equal.

"I have told you," said Dumbledore kindly and inclined his head towards her. "My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school – Your new school, if you would like to come."

"'Hogwarts'?" Harry found this hard to believe. "A school? What kind of-"

Yet before she could finish, Tom all but leapt out of the bed and made sure to keep as much distance between himself and Dumbledore as possible. He placed a hand on top of Harry's shoulder and gestured for her to do the same, but she didn't move an inch from her original spot. Her eyes were still fixed intently onto the old gentleman as though they were glued.

"You can't kid me!" Tom yelled furiously, his other hands pointed sharply at Dumbledore. "The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor', yes, of course – We'll, we're not going, see?"

"I'm not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently, reaching over to grasp the back of the unoccupied chair next to the wardrobe beside him and sitting down. Even Harry took a cautious step back as she saw this. There definitely hadn't been another chair in the room earlier, nor had one been brought in. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you–"

"That would be tremendously ambitious of them," interrupted Harry, narrowing her eyes at Dumbledore, not entirely convinced just yet. With Tom standing next to her, still glaring coldly as ever at the gentleman, it was hard to become any more reassured. However, if this was going where she imagined it would go, and she certainly hoped it would, then she would listen. "But tell us, then."

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore began slowly. "is a school for people with special abilities–"

"We're not mad!" It was Tom's turn to interrupt, the hand that was placed on top of Harry's shoulder was curling harshly against it. "Stop lying!"

"Neither of you are mad," said Dumbledore softly. "Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It's a school of magic."

Had they just heard right? _Magic_? That was impossible, thought Tom with wide eyes. There was no such thing as magic. It was just stupid stuff grown-ups had told them about. Even he had told Harry that magic and all that was just phantasmagorical products of the imagination created to make up for the dreadful circumstances which surrounded them. Doubt flooded through his mind like the blood in his veins, yet at the same time, so did curiosity.

"Magic?" Tom asked, daring to take a step forward.

"That's right." Dumbledore answered.

"It's _magic_ what we do?" Harry asked, shoulders lowered. "Are you joking with us now?"

"I'm completely serious."

"You mean to tell us that there are other people like us? People who can do the same things we can?"

Dumbledore nodded. "There are others like you, that is correct."

"Hah!" Harry abruptly turned around, grinning from ear to ear at Tom. "I told you that there were other people." She said victoriously. "Other people that can do the things we can." As she looked at Tom, she noticed that his eyes seemed as if they were not exactly in the present. They were distant and slightly... unnerved? She had never seen him like this before.

"What is it, exactly, that you can do?" Dumbledore suddenly asked, causing both of the children to snap their attention back at him. As Harry was about to answer him, Tom beat her to it, sounding much more relieved and enthusiastic than she had ever heard him. She couldn't exactly blame him. She, too, was excited.

"All sorts," Tom breathed, looking as if he was on the verge of collapsing. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to." Something both Harry and the old professor noticed was the way Tom's voice seemed as though it was shivering, but not out of fear. It was as if he had just walked out of icy water, but without a drop of water on him. In fact, he wasn't even looking at Dumbledore as he spoke. It was as if he was talking to himself, in a way, or someone invisible.

With his knees trembling, he stumbled back to his bed again and sat down, looking at his quivering fingers with his head bowed. "I knew I was different," he whispered. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something." Unbeknownst to him, Harry stared incredulously down at him, not knowing quite what to make of the state her friend had been rendered to.

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, but his smile was completely gone now. Instead, there was a thin line between his lips, and he was staring intently at Tom. "You're a wizard and witch, Tom, Harry."

Harry's eyes snapped back to Dumbledore. "Witch and wizard?" she asked, the same scepticism returning to the surface. "Is that what we're called?"

"Correct."

"Are you a wizard, too?" Tom asked, looking up again at the old professor. The wild happiness that was painting his facial features did little to enhance the handsome appearance most people saw during first impressions. Not knowing why, Harry couldn't help but to find it slightly unnerving instead.

"Yes, I am."

"You would think that someone other than a wizard or witch would come here to retrieve us?" Harry said, imagining that her words of reassurance would be enough to convince the Riddle boy.

He wasn't.

"Prove it." Tom demanded at once, sounding as if he hadn't heard a word the Potter girl had said. "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your places at Hogwarts–"

"Of course we are," Harry said as though the answer would be obvious. "But some verification wouldn't be too much to ask for, would it?"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'Sir'." Dumbledore said sternly, sounding just like the authority figures she couldn't bear to handle. Harry scoffed quietly and suddenly didn't like the situation very much anymore. People who demanded that kind of respect weren't of the sort she would wish to mend with.

However, she bit into it and said slowly, as if her mouth was filled with bitter poison, "Yes, _sir_."

But as Harry had to visibly struggle to mouth the words, much less speak them, Tom didn't seem to have a problem obeying to the wishes of those with authority. He was gifted with more than just magic, apparently, and that was his ability to behave like an angel if the situation called for it. "I'm sorry, sir. I meant, please Professor, could you show us?"

When Harry looked back at the professor, she was surprised to see him still looking oddly suspicious at Tom. Whereas most adults would break beneath the pressure of his charm, he didn't look as if he was affected in the slightest. That was a first.

Then, right before their eyes, the professor reached for something from inside his coat and pulled out what looked like a stick of sorts….. No, it wasn't just a stick. There were odd markings on it, few cracks as well, and it reminded Harry terribly much of a wand. Was it a wand?

With the flick of his wand, Harry and Tom watched as a box adorned with a red ribbon materialized itself out of thin air on top of Harry's unoccupied chair. Both children stood frozen in place, staring at the package with wide eyes.

Dumbledore put his wand away again and gestured to Harry, then to the box. "Open it," he said kindly. Harry reluctantly did as she was told and grasped a hold of the edges of the box, then she hesitantly opened it.

Inside was a cake with pink frosting and words that spelt "Happy Birthday Harry" on top. Mouth ajar, Harry's eyes flickered between the cake in her hands and then to the professor, not knowing quite what to say. This was the first time she had been given a cake like this on her birthday, much less had one appear right in front of her out of nowhere. She had never been able to do that herself, and the thought of having Billy Stubbs disappear for a few hours a day felt good.

"I was made aware that it's your birthday today," Dumbledore said.

"I- Uhm….. Thank you." Harry said after finally having found her voice again, though she was still a bit in disbelief.

Tom stared at the cake in Harry's hand, then at the wand that was now hidden in Dumbledore's coat. "Where can I get one of them?" he asked and pointed at Dumbledore rather bluntly.

"All in good time," Dumbledore answered patiently and got up to his feet. Harry put the cake down on the chair again, deciding that it would be better to eat it later. "At Hogwarts," the professor went on. "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have – inadvertently, I am sure – been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic – yes, there is a ministry – will punish lawbreakers still more severely."

Harry scratched the back of her head inadvertently at this.

"All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws." Dumbledore finished.

"Yes, sir," Tom said.

"I… suppose." Harry said reluctantly, as the thought of anyone holding her on a leash wasn't something she enjoyed thinking about.

"Stirring up trouble and getting into fights, with or without the aid of magic, is not tolerated at Hogwarts either, Harriet." Dumbledore said, and she nodded only once.

"I get that," she said and looked up again. "But we're broke as rats. We haven't got any money."

Surprisingly, Dumbledore didn't seem worried about the children's ordeal. "That is easily remedied." He then drew what looked like an odd money-pouch from his coat. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell books and so on second-hand, but–"

"Where do you buy spell-books?" Tom abruptly interrupted and quickly grasped for the money-pouch, not even thanking Dumbledore as he pulled out and inspected what looked like a golden coin, a rather large one at that. Harry stared at it as well, equally-curious. That was truly some weird-looking money.

"In Diagon-Alley,"

" _Diagon-Alley_?" Harry raised an eyebrow and looked away from the golden coin. "Where is it?"

"It's a shopping district here in London," answered Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything–"

"You're coming with?" Tom suddenly asked, not sounding too enthusiastic about the prospect of being supervised whilst shopping. True enough, Harry didn't like it either, but maybe it wouldn't be too bad this time. They didn't even know where this Diagon Alley was.

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "If you–"

" _I don't need you.""Yes, please."_

Harry and Tom looked at each other, having spoken at the same time. "We don't need him, Harry," Tom said. "We can find it on our own."

"The old man …. – _Professor_ – seems like he knows a lot about where we're headed. Besides, I would rather not wish to get lost in the middle of nowhere."

"You manage that fine even without an adult with you," Tom contradicted.

Harry scowled, "That was _one time_ , alright?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge."

"You managed to end up there at one point, too." Tom sighed and turned to Dumbledore. "We can do this on our own, sir. We go around London on our own sometimes."

"Stubborn mule," Harry muttered under her breath but relented. "Fine, we'll go on our own. But how do we get to this Diagon Alley…. _Sir_?"

Dumbledore didn't seem like he was about to establish a dispute. Instead, he handed an envelope of sorts to Harry. As she opened it, she saw that the list contained everything that would be required at this school, including cauldrons and books with odd titles. Dumbledore then proceeded to explain the route to the alley. "There's a pub in Charring Cross Road called 'The Leaky Cauldron'. You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you – non-magical people, that is – will not. Ask for Tom the barman – Easy enough to remember, as he shares your name." He inclined his head to Tom, who seemed displeased with this.

Harry knew very well why he harboured such disdain for it. Mundane things had never been amongst the few things he enjoyed in life, and unfortunately, Tom was a mundane name. However, that made her think about something. "You're able to find witches and wizards, right?" she asked. "You found us here. How?"

"When a witch or wizard is born, their names are noted by the Ministry with the aid of a special quill that is used for such purposes."

"What about our families?" she asked, growing increasingly curious. "Were they wizards and witches, too? Do you know them? Do you know where they are? Can you find them?"

At the mention of this, Dumbledore's eyes turned sad. "I'm afraid I do not know."

"My middle name is _L_ ," Harry said hopefully. "Are there any wizarding families whose names begin with that letter?"

"I would imagine that there are quite a few families in the non-wizarding world whose names begin with that letter as well," said Dumbledore gently. "I'm terribly sorry, but I do not know."

"What about Tom Riddle?" Tom asked. "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle, too, they told me. My mother can't have been magical, or she wouldn't have died. It must have been him…." Tom paused before he continued. "So, when we've got all our stuff, when do we come to this Hogwarts?"

"I don't suppose we'll get there with a magical carpet?" Harry joked.

"Those are illegal in Britain," Dumbledore said, completely serious.

" _You're joking_." Harry's mouth hung ajar.

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope." He gestured to the envelope still in Harry's grip. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There are train tickets in there, too."

Dumbledore reached for their hands, shaking Harry's hand first and then Tom, but before he let go, Tom asked a question that neither of them had even thought about asking before then. "Is talking to snakes considered normal for wizards, too?"

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate. "It is unusual, but not unheard of. Why?"

"We can talk to them," Tom said, pulling his hand back. "Harry and I."

"The both of you?" Dumbledore's eyes flickered between Tom and Harry, as though he was struggling to believe them for a moment.

Harry nodded. "Both of us. They're cool, but slightly odd at times."

A minute or so of silence passed before Dumbledore said anything else. When he finally did speak, he was already touching the door handle. Only then did he turn around, his eyes distant. "Good-bye, Harriet, Tom. We shall see you at Hogwarts."

And like that, the professor was gone.


	7. Chapter 7: The Doubt

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry Potter AU, Tom Riddle AU**

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 **Chapter 7: The Doubt**

* * *

Few words were able to make it to Harriet's head at the moment, given the circumstances surrounding her situation. An old gentleman wearing funny clothes had just arrived, told Harry and Tom that they were a wizard and a witch, then proceeded to hand them strange envelopes that contained lists of equipment that seemed as though they were required for some kind of frivolous play or theatre. If this was the staff's way of wishing them a happy birthday by making them the laugh of some trick, then they were doing an immensely good job at it, although it was totally unexpected. Mrs Cole would never have allowed something so ridiculous to happen.

She glanced over Tom whose face was shrouded with ambiguous expressions, a mixture of both surprise and …. Triumph? There were few occasions where she had witnessed him first-hand make such distinctive faces, but none were as exaggerated as these. His eyes were wide and aimed at the floor, his mouth was trembling as if he was about to utter words but had lost the voice to pronounce them, and his fingers were clenching and unclenching the top of his mattress.

"You don't honestly believe him, do you?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him with the sort of scepticism she would display towards adults whose ambitious and motives were rather questionable in terms of truthfulness and honesty. Never in her wildest imagination did she think she would ever give Tom the same treatment. "There's no way that the man is real about this, right?" As she said this, she averted her eyes back to the envelope in her hands and the ticket stuck between her index- and middle-finger. She had to admit, it seemed genuine. The adults must have put a lot of effort into this prank of theirs. "Magic doesn't exist." Her focus then slowly trailed onto the cake that was still positioned on top of the seat. There was no way it just materialized out of thin air. A silly trick, it was.

Tom, however, suddenly got to his feet, slightly startling the girl as she noticed the fierce look in his eyes. It did by no means resemble that of anger or enragement, as Tom was too stoic of a person to ever display such vigorous sentiments. Instead, there laid a cold ground beneath the surface of his irises, penetrating through Harry's green ones and she found herself struggling to form the words she wished to speak for a moment. That was until she finally regained her composure and stared straight back at him with the same demeanour, not backing down like a child.

"You saw what that man could do," he stated, daring to take a step forward closer towards her. "You heard what he said about people talking to snakes, understanding them as if they were speaking English. We can do things not even normal wizards and witches can–"

"Tom, there are no normal 'wizards' or 'witches'!" Harry fiercely contradicted him, threatening to take a step against him if he did not take personal space into account anymore. "As entertaining as your change of attitude is, even I think this is ridiculous. You just don't want to be with _them_ anymore." Even if she had found the man's words believable earlier, she came to regret it as she understood just how _unbelievable_ everything about it was. A wizarding school? Diagon Alley? Just where in a real world did such make any sense? Though she was usually all for what sounded unbelievable with enthusiasm, this had to cross the line. Like, with a mile or so.

" _There has to be an explanation behind this!"_ he bellowed, but not in English, even though it sounded like it to the both of them. No, Harry was easily able to differentiate this tongue from the one they usually spoke in when in the presence of someone else, someone who wasn't either of them. It was the snake language. The one Dumbledore said it was uncommon for other people, even supposed 'wizards' and 'witches' to understand.

She clenched the pieces of paper in her hands, crumbling the letters and inflicting crinkles onto them. _"What if there aren't?"_ she retorted sharply, the language trailing off her tongue in easy manners. _"Even if it's unnatural, for magic truly to be connected to all of this… think about it."_ Her volume ended up decreasing and she lowered her shoulders, sagging with a sigh escaping her throat as though it had been trapped inside of her for some time. This was not the time to behave irrationally, even for her to be. It was ironic how it seemed like she and Tom had suddenly switched roles, with him being the logical and level-minded one at first and her being the unpredictable one in regard to temper. _"Why are they here now all of the sudden? After all this time? Why didn't someone come get us long ago if they have some kind of 'quill' to note the births of others like us? Why did they let us stay with these …In this wretched place?"_

For the first time in what felt like a long one, she looked up at him and met Tom's eyes, her face void of any expressive feature that would make designating her current mood simple. There were rare times when she would look so distant, Tom had to admit to himself, but they weren't non-existent. "If they knew of the things we've suffered here and still deliberately left us to suffer… then I don't want to stay with people like _them_."

This time, there was no more arguing or complications. Silence had captured them once more, claimed their voices and abandoned them to the agony of nothingness. Tom couldn't quite put a name on the feeling that was suddenly starting to plague his being, but it wasn't the first time he had experienced something similar to this. The first symptom for him would be the sudden weight dropping to the bottom of the stomach like a stone in water, but he did not let it set on his face that this sudden feud between them was… bothering him.

It surprised him how it seemed like the roles belonging to him and Harry had changed, with him usually being the rational one of the two whereas she was the child whose temper and unpredictable behaviour knew no boundaries. But what surprised him even more was the fact that he actually believed in the prospect of magical connections relating to both his and Harry's situations, and she did not. He admitted, it was truly something which seemed like it had originated from a fairy-tale story, but something within him thought… it wasn't all falsehood and deceptions. He had always listened to himself and trusted his own judgement, and the results were usually content. This, surprisingly enough, was no exception either.

So, why didn't Harry… Why didn't she…

Before he could say anything, he felt something press onto his chest and he looked down to see Harry pushing the envelopes she had been given by Dumbledore into him with her left hand, her fingers barely touching the fabric of his clothing, not even looking straight up at him as she did so. The gesture was unexpected, the fact that she was not looking at him like she always used to do…. But doesn't anymore.

"If you wish to travel to London and find this diagonally-place, you can what you want." She spoke monotonously like an artificial machine, lacking both life and passion, the two characteristics that defined the Potter girl the best amongst the few he knew. As she pulled her hand back, seemingly not caring about the envelopes trailing down to the floor like a bird having been unknowingly discarded few of its feathers, Harry turned away from him and started walking towards the door.

Her hand reached for the handle, but before she twisted it, her mouth opened up again. "If you need anything, I'll be in my room."

In a matter of a few seconds, the door closed, and Tom was left there all alone. Unbeknownst to him, who was no stranger to the experience, this kind of isolation had a nagging effect on him. One that he could not put a name on.

* * *

"Hey, you! Old man!"

Dumbledore had barely reached the front entrance before he found himself abruptly halted as the familiar voice of the young Potter girl reached his ears. He turned around and watched as Harry made her way down the stairs, past the view caretakers who seemed like they were doing their best to avoid physical contact with the girl as though she was a walking carrier of some strange malady. When she finally reached him, she made sure to put a good distance between them as if he was the carrier of a malady instead, much to his amusement.

"Harriet," he greeted her, though not remaining oblivious towards the stern facial features her countenance was currently harbouring. It was a shame for green, peaceful eyes like hers to be looking with such cynicism. "Is there anything I can help you wi–"

"You can stop it with the pretending now, old geezer," she interrupted him, though he did not make any implications that he was caught off-guard by her rudeness. "If you think that I'll easily believe that you're truly the professor of some magic castle, then you're severely mistaken on that note."

"Why, Harriet, you seemed so enthusiastic about the prospect of Hogwarts just now," Dumbledore stated gently, no hostility to note in his tone at all. "What changed your mind all of the sudden?"

"I won't be taken for an idiot by anyone, especially not those... _adults_!" she spat the last part of the sentence like bitter poison had been caught in her throat and caused her to choke on it.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised this time. "Pardon? I can't say that I understand what you're implying."

Harry scoffed, her hands knotting into fists that seemed ready to be thrown at anyone at any moment, but the elderly man did not fret. "Of course not. Treating me like a child is just so easy for you, isn't it? For all of you? My temper justifies your wrongdoings so it's no problem joking with us, right?" Her teeth grinded themselves against each other beneath her lips and threatened to break at any moment. "You probably think it's funny to lie to us and imagine that it will have no consequences. Nothing wrong about it at all."

"Harry, I cannot comprehend what it is that you are so infuriated abo–

" _BECAUSE I HATE LIARS!"_

This time, Dumbledore had no means of understanding what it was that had just escaped the young girl's throat, because that had not been a language he could comprehend even though he knew quite a few. Still, he had heard similar words throughout his life. At least he now had verification that it had not been falsehood the children had thrown at him when they said they understood the language of the serpents. They were being truthful, as truthful as children like them could be.

They were Parselmouths.

However, he did not proceed to raise his voice in the slightest, which was something he wasn't as renowned as like some of his other colleagues were. Instead, he merely smiled at the young girl whose eyes had sharpened considerably after her shout. "I understand if this is hard to accept or believe, Harriet, but I can assure you that there is nothing untruthful about Hogwarts. It's real. You and Tom are both accepted there and will be taught to control your abilities to the best extent that you prove yourselves capable of achieving."

Harry's suspicious glares did not decrease despite his assurances. "You may tell me whatever you like about this school, but don't think for a moment that I'm going to oblige to this idiocy. Makes me wonder what those idiots are paying you to go through with this."

"Who?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know. Both the staff and the children enjoy pushing us to the corner whenever they get the opportunity. Nothing we can do about it anyway except occasionally putting a snake in their trouser-drawers." A sly grin crept across her features. "And don't think for a moment that I'll hesitate to do the same to you if you show your face here again, old man. Stay away from us if you know what's best for you."

Dumbledore hummed contemplatively at this. "I don't like the sound of how you seem to like threatening others with your powers, Harriet. Remember, Hogwarts does not tolerate any misuse of powers, not even if you are not of age yet. Threats are also not tolerated on school grounds."

"You sure sound like you believe this school is real," Harry said with a condescending nod his way. "Had it not been for the circumstances, I would've almost believed you."

"So, you still don't believe that Hogwarts or magic is real, do you?"

The sinister glare returned to Harry's face again as he said this. "I have no need for the words of someone who has shown no real proof of this. Not to mention, if you've known of our existence all along with the use of that stupid quill of yours, how come none of you ever arrived here to retrieve us?" Her eyes sharpened twice again, this time with genuine contempt even Dumbledore found a little unsettling. "Why did you let us stay here in this hole? Were we not considered important enough to get or did you just enjoy acknowledging our suffering?"

Guilt was not an emotion Dumbledore was any stranger towards and he had found himself experiencing it on numerous occasions in his life, some reasons were greater than others, but this case proved itself to be different from the other ones that had inflicted him such a severe reaction. He felt the remorse creep up on him like an invisible being, understanding that although he was unacknowledgeable towards whatever cruel treatment the children had received here in their absence, there was nothing that could be done to reverse their cynicism and antipathy than to oblige with the girl's request.

If anything, it would be a start, at least.

"I am sorry for what you may have experienced here, Harry," he spoke sincerely, sighing deeply so that his shoulders lowered themselves. "but Hogwarts will provide an opportunity for you to re-establish your lives, or finally achieve them. You will have a purpose in life and magic is only a contributing factor behind it."

Deciding that she had finally heard enough, Harry shook her head and prepared to turn around. "I have better things to spend my time on other than some…." She found herself incapable of finishing the sentence she had prepared at hand as something blue began to flash behind her, like the light of the moon through an open window. But she recalled that it was still afternoon, and even if the moon was present, there was no way it would be able to emit such a strong light.

As she turned around again, eyes wide and her breath caught in her throat, she turned around and this time, she understood that there was no way a cheap trick could produce something as magnificent as _that_.

 _Magic_.

* * *

Not even five minutes later, the door leading into Tom's room burst open and Harry appeared, a determined expression on her face, one that was akin to the kind she was renowned for producing. In less than a moment, she had located Tom on top of his bed, pointed at him and said, "We leave tomorrow at twelve o'clock precisely. If you're not awake by then, I'll throw a bucket of cold water at you. Now, who wants some of that case?"

The Riddle boy, although unsure of how to react accordingly to the sudden change of situation, found himself … smiling fondly.

" _Happy birthday, Harry."_


	8. Chapter 8: The Bar

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry AU, Tom Riddle AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The Bar**

* * *

The city was heavily crowded that day, which was the understatement of the century in Harry's mind. The people walking past them occasionally cast the orphans suspicious looks, but none seemed like they were willing to say anything. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for children from the orphanage to walk around unattended in the city, as it usually it indicated that they had run away.

But not this time.

The same morning, Tom had managed to persuade one of the staff members to grant him and Harry temporary leave for the day. Under the deception that they were looking for some way to celebrate Harry's birthday, it didn't take much effort to sway the caretaker into permitting it. Given that Tom was such a natural with using his charm to get his way, Harry only watched as the caretaker nodded with a smile on her face and patted Tom's head in confirmation. However, they were only allowed to stay out until dinnertime before they would have to return, meaning that they needed to be swift if they wished to avoid another scolding from Mrs Cole.

"'First-year students will require,'" Harry read up from the list in her hand as they walked, not paying any attention to her surroundings in the slightest. "'Three sets of black robes, one plain pointed hat, one pair of protective gloves made from dragonhide...'"

Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow, unsure if he had heard correctly. " _Dragonhide_?"

"Apparently so." Harry verified without looking up from the list, apparently nonchalant about the words she had just pronounced despite their incredulity. "You have to give them credit though. They're serious about this kind of stuff, those wizards. Imagine it: dragons. Maybe they're keeping one on the grounds in order to keep out nosy intruders."

"Seems like ludicrous," he admitted, not managing to picture a dragon on school grounds as well as he imagined Harry would. Harry may have been onto something about the old man's suspicion when he first arrived, but for some reason he couldn't fathom, she was now absolutely clinging onto the thought of some magical school in the middle of Scotland.

Mentioning nothing else of the dragon, he glanced over at Harry and noticed something odd about her today. She was… unusually quiet. Not quiet like she was melancholic, but as if she was being thoughtful. That alone seemed like _true_ ludicrous.

Unable to contain his curiosity, the boy opened his mouth and vocalized them aloud. "What's with you today?"

This earned him her instant attention.

She stopped walking and looked away from her list, green eyes piercing through him like daggers but not the malevolent sort. There was a mixture of mystification on her face as she glanced at him, torn between what seemed like the urge to reprimand him for his bluntness or question it.

"What do you mean?" she asked calmly, albeit perplexed as to why he was asking such a question.

Tom hesitated a moment before he gathered his thoughts correctly, systematically arranging them and the potential answers he had in mind for them. "You've been awfully quiet for some reason today," he said, still finding her silence somewhat unnerving to endure. Where was her usual flare? It couldn't have extinguished. "Has anything happened? Are you sick?"

Without even waiting for a response, he placed a hand on top of her forehead and searched for anything that indicated she was unwell. The chickenpox could be a likely problem, as several children had been hit with it recently in the orphanage, including Billy Stubs, but Harry had already had hers by the time she was six, so it was highly unlikely it was another case of that. She wasn't particularly warm, so it couldn't be a fever either.

Although unfazed by this, Harry raised an eyebrow at this gesture. "Geez, since when did you become such a mother hen?" She pulled his hand off of her and let out a sigh, not seeming like she was in a mood for stirring trouble or making a fuss like she usually was whenever someone did something she didn't particularly like. Instead, she merely gave him a look. "Aren't you the one who always say that it's heaven whenever I'm quiet? Besides, I'm just thinking, that's all."

"I didn't know you had the capacity for such hard work."

"Surprises you, doesn't it?"

"To an extent, yes." He responded with, tugging on his scarf as the chilly air of August began to stir. It wasn't long until autumn would arrive and before then, they would apparently head off to some magical school somewhere with no legal guardian to accompany them. It didn't strike him as odd at first, as he had finally been presented with a reason behind his unique abilities, but what struck him as strange was Harry's docility. For some reasons, he didn't really like it.

He looked her straight in the eyes as he prepared to speak. "You've been almost completely mute ever since you went to speak with that old man yesterday, but you're utterly acceptable towards the prospect of magic now than you were earlier. Why?" This question was neither meant to be sardonic nor intrusive, unlike how they tended to be. He wasn't being a prat by being genuinely curious, but the way he spoke didn't usually leave him sounding as charming as it usually did.

The Potter girl's round eyes stared up at him with the same sort of curiosity which he aimed at her. Despite this, her emotions were unreadable, much to his dismay. There had never been a day where Harry hadn't vocalized her current state of mind, so why was this day any different?

Finding her silence to be no affirmative answer, Tom prepared to dismiss his question, but she suddenly said something which caused his mind to go blank for a moment.

"There was a big bird." Her voice was hollow but filled with wonder and amazement. Her eyes were no longer on Tom, but on her hands. "So big that it seemed like it would embrace the entire room we stood in." She proceeded to spread her arms as to imitate the size of the creature she was describing, but judging by how she basically had to hold them out on each side of her, it seemed like the supposed bird was much larger than what she could mimic of it.

"It was large and blue, glowing in the dark like a bioluminescent jellyfish." Harry enclosed her arms and moved her hands around each other like she was holding something invisible to the naked eye, watching it with childlike wonder and fascination. Tom didn't admit he shared the same kind of enthusiasm like her, but he knew she wouldn't make up something like this for the sake of a story. He believed her.

"So, he produced some kind of bird?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a crooked eyebrow.

"Somewhat, but it wasn't a normal bird. It was giant. It looked like an eagle, but it wasn't… I don't know what kind it was, but it was _beautiful_."

It was hard to not notice the glimmer shining in Harry's eyes. On very seldom occasions had Tom witnessed it for himself, but this…. This was not something he imagined would have such a lingering effect on him. He didn't know exactly what kind of effect it was, but it was something that left a warm feeling in his chest.

Curling his lips a little, he shrugged and pretended not to approve of her bewilderment. "Enough talk about glowing birds. Where exactly is this 'Leaky Cauldron' place?"

Harry looked up, turning to something apparently behind him and pointed. "We're here."

Tom followed her eyes and looked up to spot a sign hanging above him, reading "The Leaky Cauldron", accommodated with the image of a black cauldron on it. Curious of how they had already managed to get there on such short notice, he squinted his eyes at the sign and flickered his sight from it to the entrance door. To be honest, the shop seemed a little shabby and demolished, as though it had been established by strays several centuries ago. It was hard to imagine that this was the gateway to a magical society.

"Well, the old man said that the barman could help us. I think his name is the same as yours, Tom." Harry said determinedly. Tom glared slightly at her, or more appropriately, the words she had spoken. A frown appeared on his lips as well, but the Potter girl didn't seem to notice this as she was already taking her first step towards the entrance door. Tom hesitated for a moment and looked around, noticing how none of the people walking around them seemed like they were able to spot the old-looking bar. Whether it was just coincidental or otherwise, he could care less and joined Harry shortly afterwards.

They opened the door and needless to say, it did not exceed Tom's expectations. True to the outside, the inside seemed no less dark or shabby. Few oddly-clothed witches occupied the corner of the place, drinking what he could only identify as some sort of liquor whilst whispering to themselves. The stench of smoke and sherry hung in the air, one he had more than often smelled back at the orphanage in Mrs Cole's office.

Several heads turned Harry and Tom's way as they stepped inside, but none of them did much other than to nod before resuming with their other activities. Children within a bar didn't seem like an uncommon occurrence judging by the apathetic attitude of the customers, for reasons which the children had yet to uncover. Maybe the legal drinking age was different in the wizarding world than in the muggle-world?

"Are you certain this is the right place?" Tom inquired and voiced his scepticism, scanning the interior of the bar with little to no interest other than to find some sort of answer to his question. "I don't really see anything that would indicate the entrance to a magical community."

"I don't think they'd put up a sign that says, 'DOOR TO WIZARDING WORLD RIGHT HERE' either, you know." Harry sarcastically retorted, earning her a look from the Riddle boy. Shrugging indifferently, she stepped forward and approached the bar with Tom walking beside her, paying notice to the glances they occasionally earned their way.

"Excuse me, sir." Harry called to the barman who had just finished cleaning some of the glasses. He was a tall man, middle-aged and slightly balding, although not entirely there yet. The barman turned around and looked at the both of them, smiling as he seemingly understood their purpose for being there despite the fact that they had not even said anything regarding. Only then did they discover that the barman lacked a tooth in his upper jaw.

"Good day, children." He greeted them welcomingly. "What can I do for you? I hope you're not here to get drunk before the weekend."

"Consumption of alcohol for minors is illegal." Tom responded stoically, not finding the barman's sense of humour very entertaining.

The man chuckled his way. "Aren't you a smart little guy?"

"He is, but we're wondering if you're Tom?" Harry asked curtly.

"That I am." The barman affirmed with a nod and set the glass aside on the counter. "And who might you be?"

"My name's Harry, and this is my friend To–"

" _Riddle_." Tom interrupted sharply, earning him an odd look from Harry which he ignored. "My name's Riddle."

" _Riddle_?" The barman seemed slightly perplexed by this. "That's a peculiar name."

"Not a lot of people have such a name." Tom replied, indifferent to the incredulous stare he received from the Potter girl beside him who seemed like she was on the verge of exclaiming something in protest. "We were told you could show us the entrance to Diagonally."

" _Diagon Alley_ , lad, and yes, I can show you. I think professor Dumbledore mentioned that a couple of runts would stop by sooner or later, but I didn't imagine it being this soon. School doesn't even start before the first of September, so you're quite early."

"The earlier we are, the better. Besides, we're not very familiar with the wizarding world." Tom explained. "We weren't raised knowing about it. Only yesterday were we introduced to it."

"Ah, I see. You were raised by muggles, is that so?" the barman proceeded to exclaim, causing several heads to turn their way and observe the spectacle that was unfolding in front of them. "But surely you must have had some thoughts that you were different."

"That's none of your concer–"

" _Anyway_ ," Harry intervened again, smiling at the barman before Tom could finish his sentence and cause them problems. "We would really appreciate it if you could show us the way there, please."

The barman, seemingly oblivious towards Tom's cold attitude towards him, nodded before he gestured to them to follow him. "No problem at all, lass. Follow me and I'll show you."

No less than two seconds after he had turned around to show them the way, Harry smacked Tom over the head as quick and as hard as she could before she swiftly followed after the barman. Tom, having not experienced any significant pain, merely rolled his eyes at her childish reaction and followed after them both through a backdoor to a small walled courtyard filled with little other than a few trashcans and other junk. Flies swarmed the place and Tom had to wave his hand a couple of times to get them out of his face.

"Now, as you get to Diagon Alley, remember to stay out of Knockturn Alley." The barman explained ahead of them as he placed himself in front of the furthest wall, seemingly looking for something.

"Knockturn Alley? What's that?" Harry asked curiously, placing herself beside Tom.

"It's a shady place, filled with all sorts of dark wizards and witches. They don't like trouble, and trouble usually follows if someone unwelcomed comes around. If I were you, I'd just stay out of there and mind my own business." The barman explained seriously as he began to count the bricks for some reason, mumbling to himself as he did.

The children shared odd looks with each other, no words escaping them. However, barely a moment later, the sound of something scraping against the bricks caught their attention, and they watched as the brick in the middle of the wall began to wriggle until a small hole appeared. They both took a few steps back and observed as the hole grew increasingly larger and larger until it created what looked like some kind of archway up ahead.

"You don't see that very often," Tom murmured in amazement, albeit inaudibly.

The barman turned and stretched his arm out to the way ahead. "That's the way to Diagon Alley. You sure you're going to manage on your own? You've never been there before, have you?"

"We'll manage." Tom quickly said and was already walking past the barman without a second glance. Harry quickly followed up, although after thanking the man for his help. As soon as she caught up with him, questions were already being asked.

"Why did you call yourself 'Riddle'?"

"That's my name."

"Yes, your _surname_ , but not your first." Harry protested and raised an eyebrow towards him. "Seriously, that was strange, even for you."

Tom didn't answer.


	9. Chapter 9: Rebirth

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry AU, Tom Riddle AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Rebirth**

* * *

 _It was New Year's Eve. A cold and bitter evening with snow descending from the darkened sky with no mercy towards the unfortunate people who just happened to be travelling beneath it on said night. It was not exclusive towards anyone, regardless of the circumstances said unfortunates were in._

 _And one of those unfortunate ones just happened to be a heavily-pregnant woman, wearing tattered clothing that hardly looked like they were supposed to be worn by anyone who wished to remain warm, much less for someone who was supposed to stand outside in such a disastrous weather._

 _Much less someone who was pregnant._

 _Her steps left behind heavy footprints in the snow, which made sense considering how she was walking for two. The snow didn't exactly make it any easier for her to make her way forward, and she could feel an immense pain throb in her abdomen for each step she took._

 _She had been walking through London for quite some time now, looking for shelter and someplace to find sanctuary against the blizzard. However, none of the stores were open and there didn't seem to be anyone out at this hour._

 _The next time she felt something, it was a kick that made itself acknowledged in her nether regions. The Unfortunate Woman let out an agonizing cry that forced her to pause in her steps, tears rolling down her eyes as she stood there in the cold. The snow brushed mercilessly against her, seemingly leaving marks behind on her skin as though shards of glass were raining instead of hail._

 _Placing a firm hand over her bloated stomach, the Unfortunate Woman took a couple of heavy breaths, trying to comfort herself more than she tried to comfort her unborn child._

" _There, there, sweet thing," she ushered weakly, gently patting her belly. "Just stay still a little longer, precious. Just for a little longer."_

 _And like that, she continued against the external forces, wishing desperately to find someplace to rest before she parted with the body that was currently residing within her._

" _T-Tom…," she whispered, continuing towards the closest building she could find. Tears continued to stream down her face as she moved past the gates that had been turned ajar by the brutal wind. She didn't know whether it was just melted snow or true tears, but she felt so cold that she doubted it could be the former._

 _Past the storm that seemed utterly hellbent on denying her the right of shelter, she made her way towards the doors she spotted up ahead, each step further rendering her in painful agony as she felt the creature residing inside of her womb grow desperate to escape its containment._

 _The Unfortunate Woman didn't exactly remember much of what happened after that. She recalled banging as hard as she could on the front doors of the building she had just entered the property of, desperately crying for help as she stood there in unimaginable suffering. She could feel the warm water from her womb slide down the inside of her legs._

 _The next thing that happened was also a bit of a blur. There was a sudden feeling of warmth that embraced her shivering body, the kind of warmth that reminded her of the time when her beloved husband embraced her. Her Beloved. Her beloved Tom. Her Sweet, Sweet Tom. Her Sweet Husband._

 _Then came the pain that couldn't compare to the kind she had experienced just a few moments earlier. Her legs were parted, and she could hear her own screams escape her throat, deafening her completely and numbing all of her other senses in the process._

 _One push. Two pushes. Three pushes. Four pushes. Five pushes. Six pushes._

 _ **Seven Pushes**_ _._

 _It had been seven pushes in total, or at least she thought so. She wasn't quite certain, but all the pain had vanished on the seventh one and screaming could be heard shortly afterwards._

 _But not hers. It wasn't she who was screaming this time._

 _Her eyes flickered open for just a moment, and there she saw it._

 _No._ _ **Him**_ _._

 _In the arms of another woman was a baby, a sweet little babe, still covered in blood and crying for the first. It wasn't a loud screaming but an audible one nonetheless. She watched faintly as the midwife gently wrapped the small one in a blanket, shielding him from the cold she had suffered earlier._

 _Was that child hers? No, it couldn't be. It didn't look remotely like her, which wasn't really such a bad thing._

 _He was so beautiful. He looked so much like his father, even in such an infantile state._

 _Could it truly be hers?_

 _It was like music to her ears, to hear him cry. It was a sign that he was healthy._

 _Still, the Unfortunate Woman felt the magic in her body vanish little by little, and she was feeling more tired by the second._

" _Tom…." She managed to utter, lying down on top of the bed she had just given birth on top of._

" _What was that, dear?" one of the women near her asked, her voice filled with concern as she came to her side of the bed._

 _Ironic how her life was being cared for at a moment like this, when she knew she wouldn't make it._

 _Not that she wanted to either way._

 _Even if the Unfortunate Woman eyes never left her new-born child, she knew that it would be better like this. How would she be able to care for such a sweet thing alone in a world that didn't want her? When not her father, her brother, or even her husband wanted her anymore – her sweet, sweet Tom – how could she expect anyone else to?_

" _His name….. will be Tom…." She uttered, using what little strength her body harboured to raise her arm as the midwife placed herself beside her, holding her little boy close. The Unfortunate Woman felt the weight on top of her chest as her son –_ her son _– was placed on top of her breast, still crying in his blanket._

 **Her son** _._

" _His name will be Tom… Riddle…." She said as she wrapped her meek hands around the infant, carefully. He was so small. How would he make it in such a cruel world? "After his father."_

" _His father's name was Tom Riddle?" the midwife asked curiously, making sure that the child was placed firmly on top of his mother's breast._

 _The Unfortunate Woman nodded only once. "… Marvolo…."_

" _Marvolo?"_

"… _My father…" Even if her father had been harsh with her during her youth, a part of her wished that there would be one way that his name could be of use. A way for his name to be used for good for once. Just once._

" _So, the boy's name is Tom… Marvolo Riddle?"_

 _Once again, the Unfortunate Woman nodded, her eyes lingering on top of the baby's bald head._

 _Even so little, he looked so much like his father. The crooks of her eyes were filled with tears as she felt her hands lose their senses._

 _The world was cruel. Very cruel indeed. Yet so was she._

 _She was so selfish. How could she not live for someone as precious as this?_

 _With what little strength remained, she bent her face forward to the child and placed a soft kiss on top of his head, taking a deep breath as she did so._

 _He smelled so lovingly. It smelled of mint from him, even if it seemed impossible._

 _ **She begged that he would find his place in this world.**_

" _I hope he looks like his … papa…" The words were far from the last ones she wanted to say, but it was too late for goodbyes at this point. She had barely been granted a moment to greet him into this cruel world, and now she was not even allowed to properly say goodbye before she left the world._

 _The last thing she recalled was seeing her child crying, clinging to her chest as though losing her would be the end of him._

 _Truly cruel._

 _She closed her eyes, and never opened them again._

* * *

" _I'm telling you, I absolutely can't stand that girl!" Voices echoed from Mrs Cole's office that was loud enough to be heard by a deaf person a mile away, in Harriet's perspective._

 _It didn't come as a shock for her that the recent family that had decided to take her in were hellbent on getting out of her care almost at once, even though it had only been less than a month since they took her._

" _Please, Mrs Harmon, what exactly is it that concerns you?" As always, Mrs Cole was attempting to play the reasonable card, even though it rarely got her anywhere if the predicament concerned the Potter girl. It never did._

" _I once caught her talking to an adder in the garden!"_

" _W-Well, it's ordinary for children to have vivid imagi–"_

" _And then, I swear, things began to move around the house without me touching it! They floated, I say! My mother's antique tea-set, which I neatly organize every day, mind you, were scattered around the house!"_

" _She could have just taken–_

" _They were at the top of a shelf! No way a girl like that should've been able to reach it by herself, even if she had a chair! Then one day, after she got into an argument with my sweet little girl, a wart the size of a pig's tail began to sprout from her behind! I'm telling you, there is no way that I'm keeping that girl! If you want to do yourself a favour, send her to the nuthouse! To the place where they are supposed to treat people like her!"_

 _However was a nuthouse supposed to treat something like that?_

 _Unbeknownst to both of the women inside of Mrs Cole's office, the young girl their rather-one-sided conversation regarded had positioned herself outside of the ajar door, having listened to everything that had been said with an ear as sharp as a pencil._

 _Needless to say, she wasn't surprised by what she was hearing._

" _Well," she sighed. "I guess I wasn't supposed to hear that."_

* * *

 _Harry said nothing as she continued to draw on top of the folded paper which was (supposed) to be her homework for the week. It didn't bother her in the slightest that the horrid woman had finally decided to return her like a possession._

 _In fact, Harry cherished it._

 _The woman, Mrs Harmon, was a privileged individual. There was no doubt about that. She bragged and bragged and bragged about her fancy clothing and rich husband and absolutely adoring children, Herbert, Sally, and John, all of whom had expressed vehement disdain towards Harry over the course of the short time she had stayed with them._

 _Their youngest daughter Sally, a blonde little pig in Harry's eyes, had been the worst of the three. There were times that she would do something bad and blame Harry for it just for a good laugh, and that alone was enough to make Harry want to throw her out the window._

 _But she refrained. Although the pig was beyond annoying, Harry would never resort to murder in order to ease herself of … unpleasant people. Instead, she did everything she could to make sure that_ they _wanted to rid themselves of_ her _._

 _The pig's tail was the last measure she had taken to ensure that._

 _Soon after that, Mrs Harmon had woken her up one morning, demanded that she pack all of her stuff, and then proceeded to practically drag her back to the orphanage by her arm. Harry wasn't so sure if it was allowed for guardians to give up their foster children so soon, but for whatever reason, she was welcomed back with no questions asked whatsoever._

" _This is a new development, don't you think?"_

 _She tilted her head to Tom, observing his behaviour with a sharp eye. They were sitting in the common room by the hallway to Mrs Cole's office, hearing their muffled argument behind the door._

" _Most people don't last long with you either, you know? Think about that the next time you come up with such a hypocritical statement."_

 _Tom shrugged. "I didn't say I was any better, but it merely surprised me that this lady lasted this long. She must have been desperate for welfare money."_

" _What about you then?" Harry inquired. "You're the ideal child any parent would want to have. Intelligent, good-looking, you could probably even make the Queen of England fall in love with you. So, why are you never picked?"_

 _For the first time, Tom looked up at her with an unreadable expression. It was not uncommon for him to be this unreadable, but it somehow seemed different this time._

" _Because I never want to. I don't really want to leave with someone else, much less grownups like her." He tilted his head towards the direction of Mrs Cole's office._

 _His words were so low that Harry initially thought that she had heard wrong for a split moment, but the look on his face didn't make her question it for long._

"' _Someone else?'"_

 _Tom let out an exasperated sigh before he turned back to his book. "There are few people in this world I can stand, and despite your lack of manners, vocabulary, overall intelligence–"_

" _Get to the point already."_

 _He cast her a brief glance in the corner of his eye, noticing how she was sitting closely into him as curiosity overwhelmed her._

 _He decided to answer. "You're one of the few people I can actually tolerate to a certain extent. Although things certainly are great when you're quiet, it would truly be tedious if you were gone. Leaving would mean I would no longer be able to scrutinize your recklessness anymore, and what entertainment is in that for me?"_

"…" _Heavy silence._

"… _..." Continuous silence._

"… _.." …. Unbearable silence._

 _Uncertain of whether his words had rendered her to a broken mess, Tom dared look to his side, expecting to see a flabbergasted Harry at a loss of words with wide eyes and a mouth that hung ajar from her jaw._

 _Instead, however, he saw her grinning widely at him, with a mischievous flare in her eyes and a jaw that was completely shut, her teeth being displayed perfectly. "Tom, is this your way of confessing to me?"_

" _Confessing?" He raised an incredulous eyebrow._

" _Oh, beloved Harry!" She proceeded to dramatically drop her arm over his shoulder, much to his dismay as he proceeded to cover his face in his book. He much preferred the quiet now. "I love you soooooo much! May we die together in this cruel world and be together foreve– GAH!"_

 _Tom had downright slammed the open book into her face, effectively cutting her off before she could finish. "Oh, quit your drama, Potter."_

 _Instead of acting offended, Harry merely laughed beneath the book pages. "Admit it, Riddle, you're fonder of me than you care to admit."_

" _As fond as someone is of their pet." He retorted, but with a small smile plastered on his lips. He removed the book and placed it down on the table. "But that's better than most get."_

" _I'll take that as a compliment." She replied, grinning no less than she did earlier. "By the way, did you know that you smell like mint?"_

" _Hmmm? That's a new one."_

" _I'm serious." Harry leaned back into her seat, relaxing her posture. "Either that, or what that woman says is true and I should get locked up in some kind of looney bin."_

 _Before Tom could properly register those words and act, the doors to Mrs Cole's office suddenly slammed open and the woman, followed shortly by Mrs Cole, exited the small room and was heading straight pass them and towards the exit hall. Both Tom and Harry turned their heads around to watch the spectacle._

" _Mrs Harmon, please wai–!"_

 _But the woman was already out the door before Mrs Cole could intervene. The door slammed, and the sound of it resonated through the entire building. All Mrs Cole could do was stand there and turn hopelessly toward the children where they sat, a defeated look in her eyes. "At least she signed the papers." She mumbled. "I don't think she could quite handle you, Harry. I'm sorry."_

 _Harry waved her hand dismissively. "No problem, Mrs Cole. No offense, but I couldn't stand her much more."_

 _Sighing, the elderly woman turned away and began to walk away, disappearing once again into her office where none of the children doubted she would drown her worries in a bottle of Sherry, like she always did under circumstances like these._

 _Harry, having grown bored with her homework by now, discarded the paper in a nearby dustbin and turned her head back to Tom. "I don't think any of us will be able to find a place with someone like that. Do you?"_

 _Without hesitation, he shook his head at her question. "No, I don't."_

" _Then let's make a promise to each other."_

" _A promise?"_

 _She reached her hand to him. "Let's find a place in this world together, alright? A place for ourselves, away from these morons."_

 _Tom's gaze lingered on top of her hand for a moment before he took it, grabbing her wrist and vice versa. "Promise."_

 _A place in the world for them._

* * *

"Come on, let's go!" Harry shouted as she grabbed his hand, pulling him forward through the passageway and into the supposed Diagon Alley.

Tom's mind began to wonder as he felt her hand take his.

Was there really a place in the world for someone like them?


	10. Chapter 10: Diagon Alley, Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Warning: Fem!Harry AU, Tom Riddle AU**

 **A/N: So, finally, after several months of nothing, I have finally bee able to update. I sincerely apologize for the lack of activity, but major writer's block got the better of me for this story and I didn't know whether I would be able to continue. Fortunately, I was. I thank you all for your loving support and apologize again for my long absence.**

 **Please, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Diagon Alley - part 1**

* * *

The streets were ensconced with hundreds of people, more people than Harry had ever seen her entire life at once. They were all wearing strange clothes which consisted of bizarre robes, pointy hats, and shoes. Some of them had beards that almost touched the ground whereas others did not seem to mind the fact that there were birds sitting on top of their shoulders.

Harry had to bite her bottom lip in order not to gape at the unfathomable sight. As she turned from left to right in an attempt to try and catch a glimpse of everything that could be deemed unordinary from her perspective, Tom had to forcefully pull her to the side to keep her from being bumped into by several of the people that were approaching their way.

"Try to be a little less conspicuous," he commented, rolling his eyes when he noticed that he had failed to gather her attention away from the crowd. "They are going to think that we're at the wrong place."

"Can't you see all of this?" she asked without looking at him, eyes glued to the scenery in front of her; everything from the people to the shops that were located around her. "This is unbelievable."

"So are you if you keep looking like you're a child at the zoo," he retorted dryly and shook his head with a sigh. "We have time to inspect everything later. However, our first priority should be to find this bank the old man was talking about. We can't exactly buy what we need if we don't have any money."

This information seemed to be able to pull the Potter girl out of her head and back into reality. "Yeah, that was the thing." And suddenly, all glimmer of marvel seemed to vanish from her eyes like daylight being ensconced by the night. "It seems that all places depend on the currency in order to function properly."

Tom seemed to take her words into thought. "You expected something else?"

"No, not really," Harry explained, somewhat disappointed. "We just have to figure out where to get the money. Didn't the old man say something about a fund or something?"

"I suppose," Tom nodded. "We'll just have to ask someone if they know where."

"Excuse me, sir," Before he could even do a double-take, Harry had already asked the closest person she could find. An elderly gentleman fancying dark yet exquisite clothing which suited anyone of noble ranks.

The man glanced inquisitively down at the young girl with a bemused smile. "Yes, my dear?"

"Could you tell us the way to Gringotts?"

"Gringotts?" The man seemed puzzled. "You mean, you do not know where it is?"

Harry shook her head. "Unfortunately, this is our first time here."

"Oh, I see." He seemed to ponder for a moment before he gestured down the street. "To get to Gringotts, you walk down the street until you find a building consisting of white columns and marble. You cannot miss it."

Harry followed his gaze and gave him an affirmative nod. "Thanks' very much."

The man gave her a courteous smile. "You are very much welcome, dear." And he walked off to whatever destination he had in mind, leaving the children in the middle of the street.

"Well, I was unaware that you had the capacity for manners," Tom said sardonically with an impressed eyebrow raised, earning him a gentle nudge from the Potter girl.

"Shut up, let's go find this Gringotts."

* * *

As they walked down the streets and past the numerous people, they came across a wide variety of shops there which the ones back in London paled to compare with. Shops with floating sweets displayed inside glass, shops with animals and birds on display without any security measures taken to keep them from running away, it seemed like things were floating above them wherever they went.

It did not take them more than a couple of minutes before they reached a building which, much like the elderly gentleman had described, consisted of marble and towered over the other shops. This was undoubtedly the correct the place, but it did not seem like the sort of place that could be easily robbed from external enemies.

"I suppose this is it," Tom commented, taking his time to observe the appearance of the bank.

"Suppose so," Harry added before promptly headed towards the entrance. "Come on, we might as well get rich with whatever this trust fund can provide us with."

Yet as they stepped closer, they noticed something particularly odd. Standing by the entrance, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, stood a noticeably short man… or not a human man, at least. He was about a head shorter than both Harry and Tom, had a very sharp beard and possessed very long fingers and feet.

He bowed courteously as the children passed him by, seemingly not startled by the fact that the two of them were children. In return, the children nodded his way and stepped through a pair of burnished bronze door, but only to find themselves facing yet another pair of silver doors with strange words engraved into them.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn_

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Well," Harry sighed. "I suppose that ruins my chances of filling my pockets."

"Try to speak a little less loudly the next time you conspire theft," the Riddle boy gave her a disinterested look. "I doubt the consequences will be trivial, and I won't be there to help you should you decide to do anything rash."

"Yeah, you would," Harry contradicted with a confident smile. "You're always there."

Tom merely shrugged, neither denying nor accepting that statement.

They stepped inside, only to be met with the sight of even more short-haired people. What they had failed to notice with the guard outside was that these people possessed particularly sharp features, as well as ears. Perhaps they weren't entirely human at all.

They were goblins.

A pair of them bowed the children inside and into a vast marble hall, where hundreds of more goblins were seated on a high stool whilst weighing gold, writing down letters and notes of which content they could not tell, and examining jewels and precious gemstones through eyeglasses. There were dozens of doors leading into the hall, exiting from who-knew-where.

This place was like a labyrinth, and they would be in major trouble if they decided to do some questionable acts.

After marveling the view, the children walked towards the counter in the front, where another goblin was seated, wearing glasses and writing down something on a piece of paper. As they reached the counter, Tom coughed as a way to earn the goblin's attention. A pair of glassy eyes darted upwards and at them, and Tom took this as a sign that he had earned his attention.

"My name is Tom Riddle, and this is Harriet Potter," he introduced as gestured to the girl on his left side. "We are here regarding–"

"The trust fund," the goblin interrupted him unexpectedly, silencing the boy.

"Yes, that would be correct." He affirmed.

The goblin placed his feather-pen down. "Albus Dumbledore arrived earlier this week and informed us of your arrival, Mr. Riddle and Ms. Potter. However, I somewhat expected him to accompany you."

"Well," Harry sheepishly scratched the back of her head. "We insisted on going on our own."

"I can tell," said the goblin and proceeded to put a pair of contracts in front of them on the counter, along with a feather-pen which floated up and gracefully landed by the dotted line where they were supposed to sign. The children each took one of the papers and inspected them closely.

"In order to ensure that you won't misuse the trust fund, you are both required to sign a contract," the goblin explained.

"What exactly are we signing for?" Tom inquired skeptically as his eyes scanned across what was written.

"The trust fund is at your disposal as long as you stay in school. Each month, you will obtain a certain amount of gold which you may use for whatever you deem necessary," he continued. "However, should you find yourself expelled for whatever reason or if you break any of the rules which are noted down on the contract, you will instantly be cut off."

Tom squinted his eyes on the paper, reading thoroughly through it before he reached the criteria which were enlisted.

 _1\. If the user is expelled from their elected academy or place of education for whatever purpose, then the trust fund will no longer remain accessible._

 _2\. Should the user find themselves short of money before the monthly obtain, they are required to wait until the next date of provision._

 _3\. If the user is under custody of the Ministry for whatever purpose, the trust fund will be put on temporary hold until the predicament has been managed._

 _4\. The user will not receive the trust fund over the course of the summer holidays._

 _5\. The fund will be sent on the 1_ _st_ _of each month, which begins on 1_ _st_ _of September and ends on 1_ _st_ _of June._

 _6\. Should the fund be used solely on items which are not strictly related to educational use, the amount received each month may become regulated depending on its primary use._

 _ **Should any of these rules be transgressed, then it will result in the trust fund being unavailable for further use until a guardian takes up the case or if the circumstances prove to be excusable.**_

"You are thorough," Tom commented as soon as he finished reading, then reached for the quill and started to write his own name down on the dotted line. Golden ink seeped out of it as he wrote, much to his amusement.

Harry waited for a moment before she turned to the goblin. "Are there any restriction on what we can and cannot purchase with it?"

The goblin looked at her. "Like it says on the contract, you are advised to spend the majority on your money on education, but since they are yours, you may do whatever you please with them as long as you stay in school with at least acceptable marks on your subjects."

"And how will we receive the money?"

"An owl will arrive at the beginning of each month with it."

"But can't it be stolen by someone?"

"No, the money is only accessible to those who have signed the contract. Should anyone else get their hands on it, it will trigger a jinx that will sting the thief and alarm the bank of thievery. However, it will be your primary responsibility to take care of it. Keeping it in an enchanted box or containment is advised."

At the sound of this, the Potter girl simply stared at the goblin with a look of disbelief. "We don't…. really know how to use jinxes or-or enchantments yet."

The goblin waved his hand dismissively. "No need to. You may ask one of your teachers to lend you a hand until you can master the ability yourself."

Harry reluctantly nodded and took the quill as soon as Tom was done with it and wrote down her name as clearly as she was able to. Her name glistened in the light like liquid gold. As soon as both the documents were signed, they suddenly flew out of their grips and into the air, landing in front of the goblin behind the counter. H quickly looked over them before he wrote something else down on both and stamped it.

He then jumped down from the high chair behind the counter, which shocked Harry to a certain degree due to his significantly low height. She ought to have been used to it by now, but this magic never ceased to amaze her.

She looked over to Tom, who in return glanced over at her with the same ambiguous countenance.

Nodding towards each other in mutual agreement, they both followed behind the goblin as if they were a pair of ducklings.

"Ymir!" shouted the goblin suddenly shouted, causing the children to halt as another goblin suddenly arrived upon being summoned. This one differed from the rest with the way his clothes seemed more … shaggier than the rest. He also had this sharp look about him which the Potter girl found particularly uneasy.

"Take these children to the trust fund that will be assigned to them. Understood?"

The other goblin, Ymir, nodded affirmatively. "Understood, sir."

Ymir then turned around and gestured for them to follow behind him through the doors. Although they both expected to see more marble and impressive sculptures like they had earlier, they were surprised upon being met with the sight of a narrow passageway lit up with torches. There were railway tracks on the floors which led further into a path of darkness.

Ymir placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled, and a small cart arrived for them to place themselves in. At first, none of the children moved. In fact, they weren't certain of what it was they were supposed to do. Although Tom had a suspicion, Harry was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of riding some strange ride like that one.

The goblin pointed at the cart. "Well, get in."

Harry blinked. "We're supposed to … ride down there?" she pointed at the path ahead of them which lead downwards into anticipated nothingness.

"Well, how else are you supposed to reach the vault?" Ymir asked rhetorically, evidently annoyed with the delay. "Just get in already."

"Are there any safety-belts?"

"No."

"Won't we most likely fall off?"

"No, you won't."

As she opened her mouth to argue some more, Tom easily stepped into the cart and found himself at ease quite easily. He looked over at his friend and gestured for her to sit down beside him.

After a moment of hesitation, Harry sighed and cautiously stepped into the cart as well, but not before gripping tightly around the railing. She was visibly shaking, but she possessed a stern expression which failed to make her seem afraid. It was the sort of stubbornness the Riddle boy had witnessed on multiple occasions.

"Alright," she sighed. "Let's go."

Those were words she would soon regret.

The cart started to drive and the speed caused tears to gather in the corner of her eyes. It all seemed like a maze – left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left – but it was impossible to keep track of it all. Her hands gripped so tightly around the railings of the cart it felt as though she was on the verge of tearing them off.

Gritting her teeth, she glanced over at Tom in order to check if he was as in much of a fearful state as she was. But much to her surprise (not really), the Riddle boy had as much of a neutral face as he usually did. The only thing which seemed amiss about his features was the fact that his eyes were squinted as to keep too much air from hitting him.

His eyes then trailed over to her, and a smirk fell on top of his lips. "Scared, Potter?" he asked.

His smugness caused her to slightly ease up. "You. Wish."

As they plunged even deeper, they seemed to pass some sort of underground lake, and the Potter girl swore that she saw what seemed like a scaley creature spewing fire in the underground, but the view disappeared in less than a second. All thoughts of allegedly robbing the place soon vanished.

By the time they finally stopped, she didn't hesitate to jump off the cart and lean against the closest wall she could find in an effort to keep herself from vomiting. She placed a hand over her face and released a heavy sigh.

"God – _damn_ – it."

"Language." Tom chastised her apathetically.

"The normal prices for school supplies are about one-thousand galleons," the goblin suddenly spoke, earning himself the appalled stares from both the children.

"How much would that be in pounds, exactly?" Tom asked curiously.

"Right," Ymir scratched the back of his head. "You are not familiar with the wizarding currency, I take it?"

Both of them shook their heads in unison.

"One galleon is approximately…. Five muggle pounds."

" _Five pounds_?" Harry asked in shock, eyes wide. "And we are expected to pay _a thousand_ per year?"

"Unfortunately, you won't be able to purchase premium supplies," the goblin explained. "Most of it will be second-hand if you wish to be able to buy it all. At the beginning of each year, you will receive a sum of about four-hundred galleons to spend on your supply. For the rest of the year, you will receive a lesser sum."

"So, that means we will receive about … twelve-hundred pounds now?" Tom inquired skeptically. "Is that correct?"

Ymir seemed impressed with his quick mathematic skills. "Quite correct, young man."

The Potter girl only sighed in frustration. "As if math wasn't hurting my head already as it was."


End file.
